


Spades Two

by offmilk



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, its also a lot worse, jb is a highkey asshole, jjproject aren't human, this is the furthest thing from brother ever, title taken from the best card game ever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-07 16:55:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 33,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11627832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/offmilk/pseuds/offmilk
Summary: When a storm hits, Jackson becomes a guest of Jinyoung and Mark, the latter of whom he suspects is hiding a boy in his room.





	1. Fifteenth of February, Twenty-Thirteen

A storm was brewing on a cold Thursday night, and as Mark took off his shoes at the door, he noticed that he had a guest.

Mark didn’t bother to greet the guest. Instead he called out, “Jinyoung, I thought we discussed this.”

Jinyoung popped his head out from the door to his room.

“There’s a storm,” Jinyoung replied. “Can’t you hear it? It’s dangerous for a boy to be out alone.”

Mark frowned. He looked back at the boy. A year younger than Mark, he was sitting cross-legged on Jinyoung’s favourite grey couch, eyes a warm brown and expression closely resembling a puppy. Mark had a soft spot for puppies. He bit his lip. The boy’s hair was soft and fluffy; he was dressed in a grey sweater and matching pants – clearly, Jinyoung had let their guest use the shower. Mark wasn’t surprised.

 “His name is Jackson,” Jinyoung said. At the sound of his name, Jackson looked up. When he met Mark’s eyes, he seemed even more akin to a puppy. Mark knew that he would not refuse.

“I’m really sorry to intrude in your space,” Jackson sounded genuinely sorry. Mark’s heart shattered. Before he had even opened his mouth, it had been decided: their guest would stay the night. “My house is just a little far from here and I don’t have a car and Jinyoung and I were in the library so he offered to let me stay the night I promise I won’t get in the way or anything I’ll be quiet like a mouse you won’t even notice me I promise sir!”

Jinyoung laughed loudly.

“This isn’t any sir, it’s just Mark,” he said, gesturing towards older boy. Mark nodded in acknowledgement. The thunder roared and Jackson turned around, alarmed. From their tiny apartment, the storm seemed so much more aggressive, a direct force of nature acting on will rather than science alone. Outside the sun had gone long ago, and even enclosed within their home, the dark seemed to have claws – its voice producing thunder – and it screeched across the windows, demanding to be heard.  Mark looked towards the fluttering blinds.

“Don’t enter my room,” He warned. Jackson frowned, but nodded – a response that satisfied the elder. “Jinyoung, keep an eye on him.”

“Yes _sir_ ,” Jinyoung rolled his eyes.

Mark walked into his room and slammed the door.

 

 

Mark tried to ignore the man trapped in glass, but he would not have it.

“I hear company,” the man purred.

Mark did not answer his companion, who sat cross-legged in a dome made solely of glass. He ignored the deep rumble of the creature, averted his eyes from the ink running across his arm as the boy stretched – a spell or a curse running deep in place of blood. The glass cage, despite extending over Mark’s entire wall, seemed too small to house the boy inside of it. But Mark paid it no heed. Instead he took off his jacket, peeling soaked socks off his damp feet. He hated this feeling – the rain was a major inconvenience. The boy in the glass looked on, intrigued by Mark’s actions. By this time, he was used to the creature trapped in glass.

Mark had been the one to trap him there after all.

He hadn’t really meant to keep him here, but as a poor college student, where else would he keep it? He certainly couldn’t leave him with his parents – they’d be, quite understandably, spooked – and he couldn’t dump the man anywhere – that would defeat the purpose of trapping him. Storing him away in a storage container was too suspicious, renting a separate property was impossible on his budget. So here Mark was, sharing his room with a glass cage containing what appeared to be a person.

Mark flung his cold, wet socks at the glass, and the boy laughed.

“You should clean up after yourself,” Jaebum said.

Mark rolled his eyes. He watched the creature mimic his position, sitting cross-legged on the floor. Jaebum leaned on his elbows.

“Who’s the company?” He asked. When Mark didn’t answer, he spoke louder. “Mark.”

He met the creature’s eyes, sharp and cold.

“Who’s the company?” Jaebum repeated.

Outside, Mark heard shuffling – the muffled voice of Jackson, followed by Jinyoung’s soothing replies. He scowled. This is why he didn’t like guests.

“Behave,” he warned the creature.

He began changing out of his damp clothes, ignoring the obvious stare of the creature. This too was a usual occurrence. It had annoyed him at first, but after a while, he’d gotten used to the creature’s interest in vexing him. Mark frowned. He wanted a shower. He put his damp clothes back on and began rummaging for some clean undergarments. When he found them, he passed the boy once again. The creature slowly held up a card, a smile dancing on his face. Mark recognised it easily – the two of spades.

“Where did you get that?” He snapped, walking closer to the glass like a moth drawn to light. The creature, amused, also leaned in.

Jaebum smiled. “Jinyoung gave it to me.” He waved the card. “It’s boring here. We used to play cards. Why don’t we anymore?”

Mark growled. He stared at the card, wishing to snatch it out of the other’s hands. Up close, Jaebum seemed to loom over him, the nasty ink eye on his wrist laughing at the human boy. Mark looked up at the creature, his eyes met by an enchanting smile.

“Jinyoung shouldn’t give you things,” he said, ignoring the creature’s question. “I’ll lock the door next time.”

Jaebum hummed.

“You taught me to play Big Two, do you remember?”

Mark’s eyes softened, if only for a moment. Jaebum’s voice sounded like a lullaby, a call from nostalgia too alluring to deny. For a moment, everything seemed so soft and he felt like he was seventeen falling in love in the arms of another. He looked at Jaebum – this time affectionately – and it was only when the other chuckled that Mark was taken out of his trance.

“You should just let me take you,” Jaebum suggested.

Mark snarled.

 

 

Jinyoung was offering Jackson some tea when Mark stomped out of his room. Jackson’s head shot up – an immediate reaction to the sound – and quietly his eyes followed the thin boy’s retreat into the bathroom, the door slamming loudly behind him. If Jinyoung’s lack of reaction was anything to go by, this was a frequent occurrence. Briefly, Jackson wondered whether Mark did anything other than scowl and stomp.

“Is Mark alright?” Jackson asked.

Jinyoung hummed. “Hm, Mark? Oh, he gets like that sometimes. Pay him no heed. Do you want a snack?”

Jackson shook his head, eyes still trained on the bathroom door. “Are you sure we shouldn’t check up on him?”

“Oh,” Jinyoung chuckled. “I’m sure. Is it cold? We can turn on the heater if you want.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose.” Still, Jackson remained focused on the door. He could hear the sound of water rushing down – Mark was showering.

Jackson had never seen Mark until this day, but he sure had heard about him. For a boy of so few words, there seemed to be a lot of noise surrounding him. Girls thought he was cute. Guys, guys also seemed to think he was cute, endearing in his mild demeanour. He was enrolled in a few clubs – the chemistry club, for obvious reasons, a dance society, the martial arts society that Jackson joined. His name was there, but Jackson noticed that he never came. It was as if he’d enrolled in them as a first year, and long since abandoned them all. Around the university, people said he was quiet, a hard worker – seemed to mostly mind his own business. He only hung out with Jinyoung and Youngjae apparently – and even Youngjae he only hung out with for his dog.

Mark was an enigma Jackson thought he might be able to solve. A mystery conveniently placed in the coincidence of bad weather. Outside, lightning crackled, and the storm showed no signs of letting up. Jackson turned around to glance at Mark’s bedroom. The door was closed.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking,” Jackson said, “But is there a reason Mark didn’t want me to enter his room?”

Jinyoung waved his hand.

“Oh, the usual,” he said, “Death, porn magazines, embarrassing murals of his crush – it’s all there.”

Jackson scoffed, a chuckle leaving his lips.

“Mark’s a private guy?”

Jinyoung smiled. “Sort of. What has you so curious about my roommate?”

Jackson shrugged.

“Dunno – maybe I wanted to meet the myth.”

Jinyoung laughed.

“Truthfully,” Jackson said, “No one’s ever demanded I stay out of their room and told their roommate to keep an eye on me. I’m kind of scared that you’re both crazy murderers keeping children in Mark’s room.”

“Maybe,” Jinyoung said in a tone that could not be taken without some doubt. He handed Jackson a cup of warm green tea.

Outside, the thunder rumbled. The glass and thin curtains separating their flat from the balcony seemed ineffective in containing them from the storm.

“The storm won’t let up soon.” Jinyoung spoke as if this was definite. Judging from the sudden flashes of lightning, Jackson didn’t think he was too far off.

“I hope you and Mark don’t mind,” Jackson mused. “Me staying over, I mean.”

“I’m fine,” Jinyoung reassured. “Mark – Mark will live.”

Jackson smiled. “I hope so.”

Jinyoung tossed him the remote. “Anything you want to watch?”

They settled on a Thursday night movie, the kind of old, B-movie people watched out of nostalgia than interest. Saturated, fuzzy images from childhood flashed across the screen, tea travelling warmly down his throat as he thought about being nine again, feeling less but somehow more, away from all the stresses that came with growing up and moving on. The camera panned to a kind character menacingly, foreshadowing a betrayal they all saw coming, and when Jinyoung wasn’t looking Jackson snuck a look at Mark’s closed door. When the movie crept to its climax and Mark finished his shower, the apartment seemed to close to a silence, and in the silence Jackson was certain he heard someone sing.

 

 

“Stop that.”

The creature looked up smugly, an eyebrow raised as he rested behind the glass. The pack of cards he had been holding were not on the floor outside of the barrier – a peace offering, Mark suspected, but he would not fall for it. He was no longer seventeen and directionless anymore. He did not fall that easily.

Jaebum looked at him innocently. “Stop what?”

“Humming,” Mark hissed. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.”

Jaebum chuckled. “What am I doing, Mark?”

Mark shot him a warning glare, but did not reply. The creature was undeterred; snickering when Mark’s back was turned. Jaebum ran a hand through his hair, shamelessly ogling his captor from the glass. A smirk found its home on his lips.

“Do you want to say something?” Mark sighed. It was a dare.

“Spades Two,” Jaebum said. His voice was low and sweet like honey, and maybe seventeen-year-old Mark might’ve had to catch his breath, twenty-one-year-old Mark was a little over the charm of his creature. “It’s the highest card in Big Two, isn’t it? As soon as you have it, you know that you’ll win any one-card round that you want.”

Mark shook his head. There was something menacing about Jaebum’s discussion of the rules of Big Two – like he was dancing over a hidden meaning Mark would never get.

“Four of a kind trumps everything,” Mark said. He humoured him nevertheless.

“Ah,” Jaebum smiled. “Why do they call it Big Two then?”

“Because the probability of getting four of a kind is extremely rare,” Mark replied dryly. He didn’t understand where Jaebum wanted to go with this conversation. “Unless your cards are badly shuffled. At least you always know someone will have the two of spades.”

Jaebum hummed. He knew all of this. Mark had taught him how to play when they were seventeen. And he had been very good at it – Jaebum, that is, after he’d gotten the hang of the game, and let the cards flutter in his favour. Tentative hands pressed against the glass and Mark watched as Jaebum leaned in, his forehead touching the glass as if he knew Mark would follow.

Jaebum tilted his head, a small, confident smile on his lips. It looked so inviting. On his best days, Mark saw him as nothing more than a dark spark from the past. At his worst, Mark saw Jaebum as comfort, as a solution to the hole he seemed to be in.

The creature’s expression was so beckoning, so kind that like clockwork Mark found himself aligning his hands with Jaebum, forehead pressed against the cool glass as if it was Jaebum himself. The creature chuckled.

“Let me out, Mark,” he purred. “If you do, we can go back to how we were.”

Mark closed his eyes, and as he always did, he considered it. Briefly, emotionlessly, filling his mind with the warmth of someone engulfing him, wrapping him in a permanent blanket that he’d never have to leave. He could imagine Sunday mornings, waking up at noon, eating bacon and pancakes and falling asleep on the couch. Jaebum huffed and Mark thought he could feel the latter’s warm breath tickle his ear.

“I love you Mark,” the creature confessed. Without looking, Mark knew that he was pleased. “I want nothing but you.”

Mark sighed.

“You have me,” he replied.

Jaebum shook his head.

“This isn’t enough,” the creature said lowly. It was almost wistful. “I want to hold you, I want to be able to touch you. I want to do all the things we used to do.”

Mark hummed, and the creature began to sing.

“Lower the barrier,” he sang, low and sweet, filled with depth Mark wasn’t sure that he had. “Let me out, won’t you?”

Jaebum’s fingers curled.

“I promise I’ll make everything go back to the way it was,” he smiled. “I can make you happy, Mark.”

The words repeated in his head, this time devoid of Jaebum’s charm.

_I can make you happy, Mark._

It was a taunt, one they knew too well.

Mark’s eyes widened, and immediately he moved away from the glass. His eyes, once soft, seemed to harden again like sharp glass. His slender fingers curled into fists, now angrily fuming at the glass. Jaebum looked on, amused.

“The only thing that will make me happy,” Mark growled, “Is you staying in the glass.”

Jaebum laughed, watching the boy turn away.

“You want me,” he purred. “You love me too much. Maybe not today, but one day you will falter and let me go. And then I’ll have you once again.”

Mark flipped him off.

“You love me,” the creature sang, homely and comforting, like a whisper from a fond memory. In a way, he was. “You’ll always love me. And you’ll always be mine.”

 

 

Mark would much rather eat alone in Jinyoung’s room, but the latter was having none of it. He’d bought some meat from the supermarket before the storm and was stir-frying it as he ordered Mark to set up the table. Jackson was helping stir the soup. Outside, the thunder and lightning had subsided, instead giving way to vicious rain. It was loud and not even the sound of their portable heater could drown out the storm.

“So Mark,” it was Jackson who spoke. “Are you a chemistry major?”

Jinyoung glared at Mark, as if he thought Mark was rude enough to ignore their guest. He wasn’t, not yet.

“I am,” Mark nodded.

“Cool!” Jackson exclaimed. Truthfully, he already knew that. He was just trying to clear the air. “I’m a biology major.”

“I’m studying psychology,” Jinyoung offered. “We’re all sort of in the same field.”

Mark nodded, offering no reply. If Jackson was a puppy, his tail would droop. Mark had a terrible affinity for dogs.

“Have you taken any chemistry classes?” Mark asked Jackson. “Or do you just do biology?”

“I’ve taken one!” Jackson said. He grinned. “It went a bit over my head though. All this quantum and classical nonsense, I just don’t understand how things can make so much sense on a large scale, and be so _difficult_ when you zoom in!”

Jinyoung laughed good-naturedly. Mark placed placemats on their small dining table. Out of habit, he nearly set the table for four.

“Atoms are kind of like people,” he said absently. Jackson turned around. “They’re easy to predict in masses, like in classical chemistry. You can predict a society’s response to floods, to a sudden loss of resources, to a falling economy and to mass murder. But on a smaller scale, individually, people are quite hard to predict. We don’t quite understand what they think all the time, like how we don’t really know how electrons move and where they are at every moment. It’s like the Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle of people.”

The two had gotten quiet, and Mark could feel a flush rising.

“That’s the most you’ll ever hear him talk,” Jinyoung told Jackson. “All you’ll hear him ever say, and it’s just about chemistry.”

Mark scowled. He stomped back into the kitchen, hurling the first drawer open to grab utensils. Once he’d grabbed what he needed, he slammed the drawer shut.

“That makes sense,” Jackson said, his voice quiet and sincere against the storm. Mark faltered, if only for a moment, before he continued distributing chopsticks and spoons. “It’s kind of like biological populations, like when we monitor genetic drift, right? We can predict what will happen to a population, but not to the individual.”

He laughed.

“Atoms really do make up everything, don’t they?” He smiled.

Jinyoung smiled good-naturedly, and Mark nodded. They began bringing out food onto the table.

“So Jackson,” Jinyoung asked. “What made you want to study biology?”

Jackson balanced two bowls of meat and soup between his hands, the latter filled to the brim. It was a tough act.

“Hm,” Jackson pondered. “I’ve always liked how…chaotic biology is, for a lack of a better word. We think that maths and science are the most logical subjects to the study, but they’re really just as messy as English or philosophy. In biology right, every time we discover an answer, we end up with more questions. It just always intrigues me, how the more you know, the less you seem to, you know?”

“A photograph,” Jinyoung recited, “Is a secret about a secret. The more it tells you, the less you know. That’s what Diane Arbus said.”

Jackson laughed.

“Yeah,” he said, “Kind of like that.” He turned around to face Mark, almost spilling the soup in the process. “What about you, Mark? What made you want to study chemistry?”

Mark took the bowl of meat from Jackson, shooing the other back to grab the bowls of rice in Jinyoung’s hands.

“Nothing special,” he said. “I just liked chemistry, that’s all. It all made sense to me. It seemed so intuitive.”

“He has a periodic table taped up on his wall,” Jinyoung said cheekily.

Mark scowled.

“I do not!” He hissed. “Stop spreading lies about me.”

Jackson didn’t seem to hear him.

“I heard you perform experiments in your bathroom,” he said. “Someone said you once destroyed the whole bathroom and you and Jinyoung showered in the dorm next door for the next week.”

Mark flushed.

“That never happened!” He said vehemently. Jinyoung grinned, but didn’t come to his support. Mark could feel the heat rising to his cheeks. “Who’s spreading these rumours? I’ll kill them.”

Jinyoung laughed. He brought out a bowl of stir-fried vegetables.

“That’s what you get for being a hermit,” he said. “All anyone knows about you is that you like chemistry. Mad student scientist is obviously what follows.”

Mark seemed to growl. Jackson grinned, arms wrapping around the elder almost naturally.

“It’s alright!” He said cheerfully. “Everyone thinks you’re super cool.”

Like a dog, Jackson began sniffing his neck. He seemed to know no bounds.

“Oh, you smell nice!” He exclaimed. “What kind of body wash do you use?”

Jinyoung seemed amused. “What does Mark smell like?” Before Mark could object, Jinyoung was on his other side, invading his personal space as he also started to sniff the eldest. Mark groaned.

“Cinnamon,” Jackson said thoughtfully. “Cinnamon, nutmeg and syrup.”

“Like baking,” Jinyoung agreed. “Too bad he can’t cook for shit.”

Mark rolled his eyes.

“Get off me,” he demanded, “Both of you.”

They smiled, Jackson looking hopeful, and Mark didn’t have the heart to say anything more. Instead they settled down at the small table and began eating. Jinyoung and Jackson carried conversation well, and eventually even Mark was laughing at whatever silly story they’d started to tell. Jackson had a way of commanding attention, and a sort of liveliness that demanded all of Mark’s attention. He drew him away from his fears of the future, from the memories of his past, and for short bursts, Mark was completely in the present. Completely next to Jackson and Jinyoung, enjoying a warm meal as the rain pattered on their rooftop. Jinyoung talked about his day. Jackson talked about his job, his annoying lab partner, the worst coffee he’d ever tasted – and all while Mark pretended that he had not trapped a boy in glass.

They cleared the table and made way for dessert, something they didn’t often have. Jackson had bought a cake to celebrate the end of finals – he’d intended to celebrate with his roommates, except the storm had come before he could reach the dorms. He insisted they have it.

“It won’t be good by the time I get back,” he said. “Besides, the cake would’ve lost all meaning.”

Jinyoung cut three fat slices and Mark looked for whatever alcohol they had in the house.

“To the storm,” Jackson laughed. He was giggly and he hadn’t even sipped the wine.

Mark sat cross-legged on at the table, cake in his hand and cup mostly untouched. Jackson was louder when the alcohol settled in, boisterous and lovely in his declarations of love. He loved them for letting him stay, he loved how sweet the cake seemed to taste, how full he seemed to feel. Jinyoung smiled good-naturedly, taking sips when appropriate. Jinyoung could handle his alcohol, more than any person should. He drowned as much as Jackson – with more control, and yet somehow just as freely. They finished their slices and Jackson tried to eat the whole cake, Jinyoung watching on, amused.

“Shouldn’t you stop him?” Mark had barely touched his second glass. Jackson was diving into the cake, unashamed.

Jinyoung waved his hand, looking on fondly. “Who’s he hurting?”

Mark couldn’t answer this. Instead he let Jackson throw up in their bathroom, dance around the house singing his own song, allowed their guest to take photos on his phone, write ‘I love you’ on empty plates using icing from the cake. Mark regretted letting him ruin the cake. It was a really nice cake, and Mark would’ve liked to eat more.

He wasn’t sure how, but somehow in the middle of Jinyoung offering to clean up, he ended up with Jackson on the couch, another mindless movie playing. Jackson reached over him to grab the remote, hands brushing against Mark’s stomach as he turned up the volume. When Mark shivered, Jackson looked up with hooded eyes.

“You’re pretty,” Jackson told him, eyeing him shamelessly. There was nothing sexual, or romantic about it. It sounded like a confession from a friend rather than anything else. Mark couldn’t remember how it felt to be complimented with platonic intentions. “I remember seeing you around uni and thinking wow, what a beautiful boy.”

Mark nodded. He didn’t really have much to say.

“Has anyone told you that you’re like an idol?” Jackson asked. Mark shook his head. The latter laughed, leaning in so Mark could smell the alcohol in his breath. “You’re such an idol. Perfect for ogling, and so pretty as well! I want to hug you when I sleep.”

Jackson’s stared at his face, expression sweet and lazy, like a little boy looking at his big brother. He squealed.

“I love you hyung!” He screamed into Mark’s chest, squeezing him tightly.

Jinyoung poked his head out from the kitchen, watching the two in amusement.

“People always return to where they belong,” he remarked. Jackson, if he was listening, wouldn’t consider his words seriously. “Don’t they, Mark?”

Mark wasn’t allowed to respond. In place of his voice was a low growl, one deep and unexpected from the cartoon on television about princesses attending school and dealing with mean, bossy blondes. Jackson laughed into Mark’s chest and the growling grew louder.

“This show is so good!” Jackson praised. “I like how dynamic it is…how surprising! I never knew a princess could growl.”

He laughed at his own joke.

“I love it!” He cried. Mark looked at Jinyoung sceptically. “I love it so much!”

The scene changed, and the growling remained persistent, but Jackson didn’t seem to mind. He seemed happy in his own little world, lying on top of Mark with his body pressed as close as he could get. Jinyoung walked over and threaded his fingers through Jackson’s hair.

“This was a bad decision,” Mark told him.

Jinyoung looked over at Jackson affectionately.

“It wasn’t my fault,” he murmured. “He came to me.”

Mark’s lips rose, and then fell. The growling became louder, and Mark was certain that if someone did not tame his beast, the floor would start vibrating.

“Whatever,” he said. “I need to switch – swap with me?”

“You don’t have to ask,” Jinyoung said. He draped Jackson’s arms around himself, forcing the stranger to cling to his body like a koala. Mark stretched his limbs, awaking them from their sleepy, still state, and eyed the closed door of his room.

“We’re lucky he’s drunk,” Mark said.

He twisted the knob and let himself in. In the dark of the night, only rustling and the low grumble revealed the creature rooming in his home. Mark flipped on the switch and met Jaebum’s eyes carefully. The latter did not need to adjust to the light.

“Behave yourself,” Mark warned.

Jaebum blinked.

“I am not the one cuddling with other people’s property,” he replied. It sounded plausible, coming from his lips.

Mark scowled, searching for a phone charger. His phone was about to die.

“I don’t like other people touching what’s mine,” Jaebum continued. Mark could feel the holes being bored into his figure, dark vines ready to pluck his spine from his body and play it as one would strum strings. Jaebum had a terrible affinity for music.

“You,” Mark said slowly, “are not in a position to make orders.”

Jaebum raised an eyebrow. He seemed arrogant, even from the glass.

“But I’m not wrong, am I?”

Mark rolled his eyes.

“Atoms and cells cannot belong to anyone but the universe,” he said mildly. The creature snickered.

“Ah, this is what you have been learning?” His tone was kind yet somehow mocking, as if, Mark feared, he was _laughing_ at the human. “You study chemistry. I can hear, love. I hear everything you say.” 

“You should’ve known that already,” Mark retorted.

Jaebum smiled.

“I liked sitting in your classes.” He agreed. Mark suspected that this was a lie. “I liked looking at you more.”

He rolled his eyes.

“No more sounds,” he warned.

Jaebum shrugged. The creature’s eyes followed Mark as he rummaged through the mess of his bed, tangles of earphones and headphones providing false hope as he pawed for his charger.

“Your company smells familiar,” Jaebum said. Mark stiffened, but did not reply. The creature smirked. “Has your human friend returned?”

“You’re going to have to be more specific,” he lied. “I have lots of human friends.”

“Ah,” the creature tilted his head, emitted a low, pleased purr. If Mark wanted to play, Jaebum would indulge him. “But none quite as familiar as the boy from Hong Kong.”

Mark did not answer, and that was enough confirmation. The creature appeared amused.

“Classical and quantum chemistry cannot explain coincidences,” Jaebum mocked. “How would the chemistry major explain this?”

“Probability,” Mark shot back, “Unlikely, but not impossible.”

“Some things appear too coincidental to be chalked up to probability,” Jaebum laughed. His voice sounded like wind chimes, and Mark hated to admit it, but he couldn’t quite understand how the four of them ended up back in the same apartment as the storm raged on. There was some truth in the creature – some things seemed too strange to be a mere chance of luck.

“What will happen next?” The creature mused.

Mark looked back sceptically. “I could ask you the same question.”

The creature laughed. His voice was like a melody woven into the night. The thunder was starting up again, the rain was heavier, and Mark had doubts that the storm would disappear by morning. He found his phone charger and shut the door.

 

 

It was perhaps the rain that Jackson could blame. The overstimulation of being around two enigmas who seemed to bleed into his dreams the way they snuck into rumours. The two boys living together – friendly, mysterious Park Jinyoung and his roommate, the quiet chemistry major Mark – who seemed to be a part of a world Jackson didn’t fully understand. They all lived in the same world, breathed the same air, watched the same chemical reactions sustain life as they had when the world had become aerobic, but somehow Mark and Jinyoung’s world seemed different to Jackson’s. The storm seemed so much more intense from their apartment. Jackson felt suffocated in his dream, simultaneously drawn and repulsed by the ocean that steadily rose in his mind.

He didn’t quite understand it, waking up at eleven the next morning, his head sluggish but not throbbing – Jackson was easily affected by alcohol, but he was rarely ever hungover. When he tried to swing his feet off the couch, he hit the warm legs of someone else and found Jinyoung at his feet. His eyebrows furrowed. Even drinking seemed different around the two – no kisses, no messy tongue, only dancing and strange movies and waking up on the couch with sore feet and a melody playing in his head. Jackson tiptoed around the body on the floor. Outside, the rain had slowed to a drizzle.

Mark was not up yet. His door was closed and the slender boy was nowhere to be seen – not in the bathroom, or the kitchen, or the strange storage closet which seemed to be locked. Jackson ached to brush his teeth. He unlocked his phone and found himself sighing when he realised it was running on one percent. He needed a charger.

With nothing to do, he carried Jinyoung back into his bed and searched around for a phone charger. Two college boys, if they did not have food, would always have spare chargers. He found one at the foot of Jinyoung’s bed and situated himself there. As soon as his phone showed signs of being comfortably charged, he started reading his messages.

_YOUNGjae: hyung don’t come back lmao_

_YOUNGjae: not because I don’t love u_

_YOUNGjae: like we don’t but_

_YOUNGjae: but because_

_YOUNGjae: like_

_YOUNGjae: well remember how we forgot to fix all the things in the dorm?_

_YOUNGjae: ya well guess what!!!_

_YOUNGjae: we got flooded!!!!_

_YOUNGjae: haha actually not that funny_

_YOUNGjae: but like i’m going to get it fixed as soon as the storm stops_

_YOUNGjae: so like lmao don’t come back no one will be there and the place is half a metre deep in water_

_YOUNGjae: I’m staying at bam’s if u need me_

_YOUNGjae: don’t come_

_YOUNGjae: you always use up all the hot water_

Jackson groaned, loud enough to stir Jinyoung from whatever sleep he was trying to hold onto. The latter looked up sleepily.

“Jackson,” he said. “You’re up early.”

Jackson looked sheepish, and Jinyoung blinked away his drowsiness, meeting Jackson’s eyes with his expectant ones.

“Is something wrong?”

They were at something between breakfast and lunch, Mark making some instant coffee, when Jinyoung declared that Jackson would be staying with them until his apartment was dry.

Mark frowned at sachet dissolving in his cup. He did not dare to look at Jackson, afraid that he would be met with the droopiest puppy and all his anger would dissipate. He didn’t need to – Jackson was already apologetic.

“I’ll buy all groceries for a week,” he said, “I promise! Look, I’ll give you my card and you can buy whatever you want – even lobster, I don’t care. Please don’t kick me out!”

Jinyoung huffed in amusement and Mark knew then that he would not win this battle. He scoffed.

“I’m buying expensive meat,” he said stiffly, tongue almost burnt on his cruddy coffee. Jackson smiled.

“Yes! Of course!” He smiled. “Do whatever you want. Thank you!”

Mark didn’t reply. Instead he grabbed a piece of buttered toast and began chewing, his coffee abandoned at the kitchen to cool. He thought he could hear a melody – the faint sound of a chuckle – but to acknowledge it would be to explain everything to Jackson, and Mark was not prepared to do that. He finished off his breakfast, grabbed an umbrella and his raincoat, and went to buy groceries. By now the rain had slowed into a drizzle, and by the end of the day, Mark suspected it would be clear.

“Keep an eye on him,” he told Jinyoung, motioning to the boy on his phone. “Don’t let him near my room.”

Jinyoung didn’t plan to let Jackson out of his sight. Jackson’s phone finished charging after they’d cleared up their mess and they both ended up on the couch, a cartoon playing in the background as they scrolled through their feeds. On their small television, the ocean whispered and washed over the main characters kindly. Jinyoung wondered if the latter would notice the way his eyes glanced fondly over at the animated water.

“We should visit the ocean sometime,” Jackson murmured. Jinyoung raised an eyebrow, trying to suppress the quickening of his heartbeat.

“Pardon?” He said, despite the fact that he had heard the other quite clearly.

Jackson seemed startled. It was as if he had been unaware of his musings.

“Oh,” he looked down at his phone bashfully. “I was just thinking, that’s all.”

Jinyoung smiled. Despite himself, and despite Mark’s warnings, he said, “The ocean is a nice place to go.”

Jackson grinned.

“Isn’t it?” He said. “I love the ocean. Something about it seems very familiar.”

His eyes traced the outlines of waves on their screen.

“You know, they hypothesise that life as we know it originated in the ocean,” he mused. “We don’t exactly know how life began, but we do now that we all came from the ocean. Everything – our bodies, our physiology, our behaviour – it all came from the ocean. I think that’s why it seems so much like home.”

He laughed.

“This is going to sound so weird,” Jackson said, “But whenever I go to the ocean, I feel like I lost my love there.”

When Jinyoung didn’t reply, he chuckled.

“It sounds so weird, doesn’t it?” Jackson asked. “But some places just have certain feelings, you know? Like you go there, and you go into this weird, intermediate place where you feel different. It’s like when you hear a song from your childhood, and you can feel how you felt back then.  Every time I look at the ocean – and I know this is super weird – but I feel like I was there, once. I mean we all were, but the feeling’s just so strong, you know? We start from the ocean, and hopefully, we can all return to the ocean.”

Jinyoung smiled. He was about to reply when his phone rang, loud and demanding. Jinyoung wanted to silence it, to ignore the call and hear about Jackson’s thoughts on the ocean, but it continued to ring. He sighed.

“Hello?”

He moved out of the room to take the call. Jackson hummed, moving his attention back to the television. Had he scared Jinyoung off? He didn’t think he would. Both Jinyoung and Mark seemed so otherworldly that Jackson doubted his thoughts on the sea would’ve disturbed either of them. He could never tell. He tried to focus on the television again, force himself to be immersed in the story of two children finding a beautiful mermaid at their local beach, but somehow, he seemed to be drawn to something new. Something just as enchanting as a fantasy child’s cartoon, but this time in real life. Mark’s door was closed, but life seemed to bubble out of it. Jackson couldn’t be certain, but he was sure that there was something hiding beyond the door.

Jinyoung returned to the living room before Jackson could ponder over the mystery. He looked apologetic.

“Last night’s storm seems to have flooded the carpark,” Jinyoung explained. “My car and Mark’s might’ve been affected, there’s someone down there, so I’m going to go down and take a look. I might need you to look around for some of our registration details to get insurance covered and whatnot. Do you mind staying up here?”

He shook his head.

“I’d bring them all down myself,” he said, “But I’m not quite sure how bad the flood is down there, and I really don’t want to lose our insurance papers. You don’t mind, do you?”

Jackson shook his head. “Of course not!” He laughed. “I’m the one being the intruder, after all. You can ask me to do anything.”

Jinyoung smiled.

“Thanks,” he said. He was already rummaging for his keys. “Look, usually I would wait ‘til Mark gets back, but I’m not sure that the man there will wait that long. I won’t take too much time – just keep your phone on you, please?”

Jackson nodded, and Jinyoung left their apartment with a small click. He went back to the couch, this time fully aware that exploring Mark’s room was a possibility. He shook his head at first – determined to be a respectful guest and not betray the trust of his hosts – but the door seemed to stare down at him, mock him. He wanted to know what was behind the door; he wanted to know desperately because he was certain that there was something else behind the door. Maybe there was a dog with green eyes – Mark may have disputed all the crazy scientist rumours, but Jackson still had hope the boy had created a cat-dog hybrid. Maybe Mark was testing on rabbits. It didn’t matter.

The door stood there, unyielding, but with possibility. Jackson could try the door, couldn’t he? If it was locked, he’d never know. If it wasn’t, he could.

Jackson stared at the television, trying desperately to immerse himself in the cartoon. It was fruitless. Once his mind had considered the door, it refused to let go. It was like a persistent child, grabbing onto the sleeve of Jackson’s consciousness, demanding that he go and see. What if Mark was doing something dangerous? Something immoral? The clock above their dining table continued to click. He was running out of time. Jinyoung would be back soon. If he wanted to soothe his curiosity, he would have to act now.

Jackson jumped off the couch, racing towards Mark’s door. He hesitated in front of it, fingers curling around the knob. Jackson twisted the handle, and immediately he was let in.

He didn’t enter immediately. Not at first – he tried to survey the room, understand what was so secretive that Mark had demanded he not enter. It didn’t take long. To his left, there was a large glass panel – one similar to those used to keep precious crowns in museums. It took up the whole wall and was no more than a metre wide. But this was not the strangest part. Inside the cage held one of the most peculiar things – inside Mark’s room was a boy held between glass, trapped like an animal in a zoo.

The boy looked around Jackson’s age. He sat with his back against the wall, long legs sprayed with his eyes closed. He looked like hopeless in his position, hair pushed back and expression pained. At the presence of Jackson he flinched, afraid. Jackson could hardly believe his eyes. Mark had been hiding a boy all along.

“Please don’t hurt me,” the boy croaked. His voice was rough, as if it had not been used for a number of weeks. Jackson’s eyes flashed with both pity and confusion.

“Who are you?” He asked slowly. The boy tugged on the hem of his shirt, expression pained. Sharp, feline eyes ran up and down his body, as if scanning Jackson for threats. The boy didn’t answer, so Jackson asked. “Why are you here?”

The boy laughed cruelly. It was a dry laugh. The boy needed something to drink.

“ _He_ trapped me in here,” the boy scoffed. Jackson’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Who? Mark?”

The boy hissed.

“The one with blonde hair,” he scowled. “I would not love him, so he trapped me in the glass.”

That didn’t sound like Mark, but Jackson had only known Mark for a matter of hours. This boy, on the other hand, looked like he’d known Mark for months. Jackson wondered whether Jinyoung knew about this, whether they were both in on this. His heart ached for the boy trapped in the glass, his expression pitiful as the boy closed his eyes once again.

“I’ll get you out,” Jackson said softly. The boy looked up, hopeful. “Mark and Jinyoung aren’t home right now, but they’ll be home soon. You will have to leave quickly.”

The boy nodded. “I can do that.”

Jackson smiled.

“Good,” he paced around, observing the glass panel from every end. Truthfully, he had no idea how to free the boy. The glass looked like an extension of the wall, covering the room from the ceiling to the floor with airtight seals – how did the boy manage to breathe? “Now, how to break the glass…”

The boy shook his head. “You do not need to. He keeps a remote locked in the third drawer next to his bed. The glass is impenetrable, but it can be removed.”

Jackson followed his instructions, bringing himself to the side-table next to Mark’s bed. Like everything else concerning the two boys, it looked like it was made for a fairy-tale rather than a college boy’s room – an intricately carved piece of furniture with brass handles that curved like calligraphy. In the third drawer, true to the boy’s word, was a tiny golden safe locked by a 6-digit combination code. He held it up and showed the boy in the glass, watching him scoff.

“The code should be one-five-oh-two-one-three,” the boy said.

Jackson tried it, and to his surprise, the safe clicked open. Instantaneously, Jackson was flooded with the sensation of waves rushing over his feet, moonlight dancing on his skin as a pearl emerged from what appeared to be a gaping mouth. It was as if he was dreaming consciously, his heart hammering with some sort of demand. He didn’t have time for this. Jackson shook away the sensation and looked back at the boy in the glass.

“How did you know?” He asked.

The boy smiled sadly. When he blinked, Jackson took notice of two twin moles near one of his eyes.

“That was the day we met.”

“Ah.” Jackson took out the only object contained in the safe – something that resembled an old lock, stars and constellations etched into its exterior carefully. The rain continued to patter down at the windows and the boy looked out wistfully, willing himself to once again feel the rain under his fingers.

“Press the lock against the left corner of the glass,” the boy told him. Jackson was confused, walking towards the corner. The glass was smooth and the lock had no place, yet just as Jackson was about to object, the lock seemed to click onto the glass like a magnet. Jackson watched, amazed as the lock began to configure itself, lowering the glass barriers.

The glass barriers opened, and a sudden thrust of dread seemed to occupy his body. Jackson wasn’t sure what had caused the change of heart, but he didn’t want to wait. His eyes, which had once pitied the boy behind the glass, seemed to falter and were replaced with a fear he couldn’t quite place. He didn’t understand what had changed. When the glass barrier lowered, the boy no longer seemed as fearful – he was no longer as helpless and desolate as he had seemed behind them. Jackson had a bad feeling that he’d made a mistake, but it was too late. The boy smiled, and this smile was not tinged with sadness or gratitude. Instead it seemed to mock him.

“Thank you,” the boy grinned, revealing a set of teeth too sharp to be human. Jackson tried to reach for the lock, pull it away from the glass so that he could contain the boy once again – out of fear, really, rather than understanding – but the boy stepped in his way, pushing Jackson back until he was against the wall.

The boy wore a mild expression on his face, but his grip was tight and Jackson knew tight because he was stronger than he looked and his body was not just for show. He leaned in and Jackson closed his eyes and braced himself for something dangerous, something lewd, but all he heard was a voice purr into his ear.

“Tell Mark I still love him.”

And the boy once trapped in glass sauntered out the door.

 

 

Jinyoung knew something was wrong when he tried to call Jackson, and the latter didn’t answer. Actually, he knew something was wrong from the moment he left Jackson alone in their apartment. Mark was right – he shouldn’t have left Jackson alone in the apartment. But Jinyoung knew Jackson, or he had known Jackson, and really, what could fifteen minutes do? A lot, it seemed. Jinyoung apologised to the worker inspecting the floods, got his e-mail to send over all their registration and papers, and ran back up to their apartment. By the time he’d gotten back up to the seventh floor, Mark had returned. He looked at Jinyoung in surprise.

“Why are you running?” His eyes narrowed, shifting his weight. His hands were empty – Mark probably forgot something at their apartment. “Why are you not in the house? Where’s Jackson?”

Jinyoung didn’t reply. Instead he began unlocking the door. Mark’s suspicions rose.

“Did you leave Jackson alone in the house?” He demanded.

Jinyoung pushed open the door. His response was an answer enough. Mark scowled.

“I told you not to let him out of your sight,” he hissed. “I told you to not let him stay.”

Jinyoung looked back pitifully, and Mark couldn’t yell. Instead he called out for Jackson. Jinyoung joined in, the two of them moving towards Mark’s room. The door was open.

“Jackson!” Jinyoung exclaimed. He grabbed the boy, shaking him violently. “Are you alright?”

Jackson looked dazed. His eyes flew from Jinyoung to Mark, and then back to his hands. He looked down in guilt and if Jackson had puppy ears, they would’ve drooped.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have gone into your room.”

Mark’s eyes moved to the empty space where he’d once trapped Jaebum. The glass had disappeared and so had the lock – Jaebum had taken it with him, Mark noted. He frowned, but didn’t speak. He didn’t trust himself to say something that he wouldn’t regret. Instead, Jinyoung held the stranger in his arms.

“Where did Jaebum go?” He asked Jackson. When Jackson looked at him in confusion, he clarified. “The boy, the boy stuck in the glass. When you released him, where did he go?”

Jackson furrowed his eyebrows. “I don’t know,” he stammered. “I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have let him out. He lied to me – he told me you trapped him there because he didn’t love you back.”

Jackson looked at Mark when he said this, and Mark felt his heartstrings tug. He couldn’t look at Jackson with anything but apathy, a coldness resting in his bones that Jaebum had harboured, had grown just for him.

“Where did he go?” Jinyoung repeated. Calmly, because it had not been Jinyoung who’d risked it all to trap the creature in the glass. “When you released him, where did he go?”

Jackson squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to remember. All he could recall was Jaebum releasing him, laughter dancing on his lips as Jackson heard the door open, then lock once again. He knew nothing – not of whether Jaebum stayed in the building, whether he left the building, or anything that he’d chosen to do. He shook his head.

“I’m so sorry,” he blurted, “I have no idea.”

“Did he say anything to you?” It was Mark who asked this. Jackson’s eyes flitted back to the older male, watching how he ran a hand through his hair in agitation and anxiety. He sounded worn, almost like the trapped boy when he’d first met Jackson. “When you let him go, did he say anything? Anything at all?”

He sounded desperate when he spoke. A part of Jackson yearned to comfort him, to hold him close, but he knew that he was the source of Mark’s discomfort. Jackson furrowed his eyebrows.

“He said…” He raked his mind for the memory. “He said, ‘Tell Mark I still love him.’ And then he laughed and left.”

Mark’s face turned into a look of distain. Jinyoung held Jackson tighter as he watched Mark’s fists curl, his lips trembling and his heart seemed to swirl. If the heart was a garden Mark was growing both love and hate, disgust and affection – he wanted Jaebum to hold him as much as he wanted him to leave him. He hated not just Jinyoung for leaving Jackson alone, and Jackson for letting Jaebum go, but himself for loving Jaebum. He couldn’t take this part of himself, the part that wanted Jaebum to love him, that loved how Jaebum loved him. This part of Mark was ugly and black like the witch’s cauldron, selfish and childlike in its directions. He tried to suppress this urge.

 “I’ll go after him,” Mark decided. “We can’t leave him alone for too long.”

Jinyoung looked up. He was still holding Jackson, his grip tight.

“I think I should go after him,” Jinyoung suggested. “You can’t do anything to stop him. I can.”

Mark shook his head.

“It’s too dangerous,” he said. “He might kill you.”

Jinyoung was sceptical.

“And he won’t kill you?” 

Mark smiled, thin and weak and Jinyoung regretted the time he’d sung a human boy into romance four years ago. Mark stepped away.

“He already did,” Mark waved his hand. “15th February, 2013 – don’t you remember?”


	2. Lamia

Mark took off after that. Like everything he did, he was silent and forgettable, the space he’d once occupied feeling nothing like absence. Jinyoung hummed pretty songs into Jackson’s ear, holding his body comfortably, fondly, and Jackson found himself leaning into the latter’s touch in a way that felt too sincere, too familiar for them to be mere strangers. He hadn’t intended for this to happen.

He had just wanted to escape the storm.

Jinyoung and Jackson had been paired by their lecturer to work on a group project about psychological conditions. For Jinyoung, the psychology class had been part of his major – Jackson, on the other hand, was indecisive and liked dipping his feet into all kinds of waters. So the two had settled on investigating Stockholm syndrome and were churning out some long paragraphs in the library when the storm started to take shape.

Jinyoung had been friendly but not welcoming; he was kind, but he always seemed to keep his distance with Jackson, making sure they were always an arm’s length away. Jackson himself had not completely understood what made the latter so wary of him, but he had chalked it up to the mystery surrounding Jinyoung and his equally as enchanting roommate. Jinyoung’s offer to let him stay in their apartment was one more out of obligation than genuine concern. His dorm was a quick run from the library if they left now. Jackson’s was a thirty-minute train commute plus another ten minutes of walking.

Jinyoung had let him take a shower, settle into some warm, dry clothes and let him bide his time while they waited for his roommate. Despite his politeness and distance, he was still caring. Jinyoung turned on the heater and offered Jackson warm tea to fight away the cold threatening to take over. It was something in the air, Jackson suspected, because he was prone to the flu and thought he had been coming down with something that day, yet by nightfall all symptoms had kindly disappeared.

His fears of catching the common cold were now replaced with his fear of whatever he’d released.

The boy in the glass, Jaebum – whoever he was, neither boy seemed pleased that he had been released from his cage. Jackson couldn’t suppress his guilt. He was the one who had let the boy run free. It was his fault if anything happened. He grimaced, looking away. Did they hate him? He couldn’t blame them if they did.

Jinyoung, if he was concerned, did not appear to be so. He simply continued soothing Jackson, his voice warm and colour pretty as he picked Jackson up and set him at the dining table, humming a melody as he made them warm tea. The drizzle had not stopped as Jackson had expected; instead it had continued, slightly more persistent as rain pattered against their window. Jackson wondered if Mark would catch the flu. If he did, he thought, it would’ve been Jackson’s fault.

“15th February,” Jackson echoed. Jinyoung was placing a mug in front of him – one filled with lemon and honey – looking surprised as he heard a hollow voice speak. “Twenty-thirteen. One-five-oh-two-one-three – both Mark and the boy – Jaebum, whatever you want to call him – mentioned that date. What does it mean?”

Jinyoung faltered. His fingers, usually nimble, clumsily spilt their tea on his hands. If it burned, he did not react.

“It seems pretty important to them,” Jackson said softly. He looked up. “What happened that day?”

Jinyoung looked like he was about to dismiss him; wave his hand as Mark had, indicating an end to their conversation and any further questions. But he didn’t. Instead he sighed, taking a seat opposite Jackson with a troubled look.

“It’s not what happened that day,” Jinyoung said. He adjusted the ring sitting on his pinkie. “It’s what led to that day. That’s what you’ll find with a lot of human stories. It’s never just one day, or one moment – it’s everything that amounted to here.”

Jinyoung stared at Jackson, stared at him deeply, and suddenly Jackson felt like he’d been there all before, he’d seen it all before. But it was covered, deeply muddled by mist, and now he could only listen dumbly.

“We’ve met before,” Jinyoung said. He smiled. “And it sounds silly, but we have and so have you and Mark, and you have returned to us the way flies return to the fruits where they were born.”

Jackson had so many questions, but he’d seen this in movies, seen the back and forth that went on that stretched the answer, people angry, people confused, all of which made him wonder more than he had to. So he kept his mouth shut and looked on expectantly at Jinyoung. The more he knew now, the fewer questions that followed.

 

 

Before Mark had known Jinyoung and Jaebum, he’d known Jackson. They’d been neighbours and best friends, the kind that created second-families, and in the summer Jackson had liked to go to the beach at night. Mark was less eager, but Jackson was like a little brother and Mark didn’t think it would be right to leave him alone. So he drove them to the beach in his father’s old car and parked in the abandoned carpark, running after Jackson as he dived straight for the rocks that sat warningly on the edge.

The beach was much prettier from the cliff directly above them – one that overlooked the horizon and the depth of where all life had come from – but Jackson wanted to be as close to the water as possible. A cool, salty breeze danced through Mark’s hair and the stars glittered above them and Mark didn’t have a plausible reason to detest the latter for dragging him here. He followed Jackson as he climbed up the obsidian rocks, grabbed his hand when he nearly slipped and laughed when Jackson said the moonlight made him look otherworldly. The beach was pretty and it was empty and the two boys at the age of seventeen thought that the world belonged to them.

They screamed when the waves crashed at the rocks, giggled when they had to hide from the sound of people. Their world was quiet except for the sound of the crashing waves, and Jackson wanted to close his eyes and stay here, stay in this singular moment of bliss.

Except they couldn’t. Not when a sharp voice cut through the silence of nature, harsh against the ambient sound of the water. Mark and Jackson looked at each other questioningly. The voice sang again – a melody this time – and it sounded close, too close, and they grabbed each other’s hands instinctively. The water began to still and out of the ocean they saw a beautiful boy pop his head through the surface.

For a moment, they were silent. The two boys stared at the stranger in awe. He was beautiful in a way that truly was otherworldly; skin pale like moonlight and specks of glitter on his cheeks looking like stardust, a boy born from celestial bodies and moonlight. The beach was empty and there was only Mark, Jackson and the beautiful boy from the ocean, eyes as dark as his hair and the depths of the sea.

It was Jackson who spoke first.

“Aren’t you cold?” Jackson asked. “It’s no time to be swimming. There’s no one to see you if you drown.”

The boy from the ocean, hair as dark as the night and the events that would follow, laughed. His laughter sounded like a song they’d forgotten, something alluring, like a lullaby etched into their memory, worn over time and youth. It made them want to jump into the ocean as well. The boy shook his head and the ocean seemed to laugh with him.

“You cannot drown in where you live,” the boy said. His eyes were focused on Jackson. “I can show you, if you want.”

His last sentence had a sort of edge, one masked by his beauty and kind tone. Mark gripped his friend’s hand tighter.

“Sorry,” Mark spoke before Jackson could. Jackson was absolutely enchanted, struck by the beauty of the ocean and the boy who lived in it. Mark tugged on his hand. “I think it’s a little early for him to die.” 

To Jackson’s surprise, the boy shrugged. It broke him momentarily from his trance.

“Do as you please,” he said, eyes glancing at Jackson. “But no one comes to the ocean without a bit of trouble.”  

It was a dare, Jackson realised. He could feel his friend eyeing him suspiciously. Jackson shook his head.

“Thank you, I would rather not die tonight.”

The boy smiled, amused.

“Maybe tomorrow, then.”

The head submerged itself in water, and before Mark and Jackson knew it, the boy was gone. After that was done, they didn’t speak, silently agreeing to call it a night. They dried their feet on the sand and slipped back into their canvas shoes, heading back to Mark’s car without more than a breath shared. The radio remained off as they drove back, Jackson’s eyes somehow glassy, stolen like the night before them. Mark glanced at him, but didn’t say anything. He pulled up in front of Jackson’s house – only a few metres from his own – and Jackson undid his seatbelt.

“That,” he said softly. “What we saw – that wasn’t human.”

Mark hummed.

They went back to the beach the next day.

 

 

Mark and Jackson fell into this habit: they went to school at day, napped in the afternoon and when it got dark, they would take Mark’s car back to the beach to see the pretty boy. Mark watched from the rock closest to the shore, eyes occupied by Jackson as the two danced around each other like lovers courting, mating like pretty birds in their dance. The boy would always smile at Mark, acknowledge him kindly, but his glance was hard and Mark knew that to the boy from the sea, he was nothing more than an obstacle. Jackson, on the other hand, was absolutely enthralled by the pretty ocean boy. They spoke and they laughed and each night the pretty sea boy would ask Jackson if he would like to come for a swim, and each night Mark would grip his arm and Jackson would refuse.

If he was being honest, Mark had no reason to follow Jackson to the beach. Mostly, he did it out of responsibility. If he didn’t look after Jackson, he thought, who else would? No one else knew what he was doing every night. No one else was watching his reckless self. Someone had to do it. But a part of him was also curious like Jackson, was reckless like Jackson, and wanted to know about the sea boy as much as the sea boy wanted Jackson to fall into the ocean.

On their fifth visit, the boy sang for Jackson and tried to lure him into the sea. Jackson jumped away before Mark had to intervene, and loudly called it a night, the boy’s laughter a parting farewell. On the seventh visit, the sea boy did a flip for Jackson upon request, revealing not legs, but a fin as pretty as children’s books, all translucent and glittery in its hues of green, blue, purple and silver. The space between his torso and the fin was decorated with a wreath made from seaweed and pretty ocean coral.

“A mermaid,” Jackson whispered. The boy laughed.

“Merman,” he corrected. He smiled at Jackson. “I can show you more, if you’ll swim with me, of course.”

Jackson shook his head, watching a lazy smile grace the sea boy’s lips.

“Not today,” he said. The boy made something akin to disappointment. Jackson smiled. “You know, you never gave me your name.”

The merman laughed. His laughter sounded like a tune within itself, and it took all of Jackson’s strength to resist jumping into the water, following the sea child to his doom.

“We don’t have names,” he said mildly. “That is a human thing.”

“Ah,” Jackson shook off the charm of the merman, trying to maintain a playful jab. “Do you have a human name you like, then? I’d like to call you something.”

The boy from the sea snickered. He raked his mind, looking thoughtful in the most intriguing way. Perhaps, Mark thought, he was looking for a name to hurt Jackson – a name with meaning, a connection to his past, something that would elicit a response. He didn’t know what the merman was capable of, and both of them knew that if he wanted Jackson, he would have to keep it that way. Mark’s fists balled and he moved to be in easy reach of Jackson. The merman smiled in amusement.

“I like Jinyoung,” he said. “Call me Jinyoung.”

Jackson nodded. Moonlight kissed his face and the sea boy, Jinyoung, looked at him in such a predatory way that it seemed as though he wanted to devour the human, crack his bones and eat his heart and satisfy a hunger that was dangerous as much as it was instinctive. Against better judgement, Jackson chuckled.

“Any reason why you chose Jinyoung?” He asked.

Jinyoung shrugged.

“We are not humans. We do not always act out of reason,” Jinyoung seemed amused by the concept. “Some things are random.”

Jackson tried to wrap his head around the concept as the sea boy moved to rest his arms around a small obsidian rock, fingers curling to reveal a thin band made of white gold, perched on top of his pinkie with a tiny pearl held at its centre. Jinyoung laughed when he saw Jackson’s interest in his ring.

“Do you like shiny things, human boy?” He inquired. “I could show you many shiny treasures – more than you could imagine – if only you’d follow me down the sea.”

Jackson’s eyes moved from Jinyoung’s hand to his eyes, sparkling with devious extent, and the boy shook his head.

“The ocean is satisfying enough from here,” he said.

“It is better under,” Jinyoung quipped. “Come, human boy – what do you have to lose?”

“My life,” Jackson said flatly. The sea boy laughed.

“What is time to the immortal?” He mused. “I’ve seen your life, and it is hardly worth keeping.”

Jackson, to Jinyoung’s surprise, was not offended. He hummed.

“Perhaps not,” he smiled. “I still like it though. Until tomorrow, then.”

The sea boy frowned.

“Goodbye.”

Jackson climbed back down from the rocks and found Mark at the base, leaning on a particularly large structure. He appeared to be asleep, but one ear always on Jackson, always Jackson, and when his best friend jumped down onto the sand, Mark stirred. He looked up at Jackson, and then down at his phone.

“It’s still early,” he murmured. Jackson provided no response. “Let’s get back.”

They had fallen into habit, driving back with the radio turned off. The charm and glamour of the sea boy had died down, and now they could speak about mundane things, normal things, without the astonishment of the merman living near the beach. Mark had one hand on the wheel, twenty kilometres under the speed limit because they were still near the beach and the breeze was nice and cool. Jackson rolled down his window and looked out wistfully.

“You keep going back,” Mark said. It was a statement but also a question. Jackson knew it well enough, arms outstretched as his fingers raked in the cold breeze, trying to hold onto the memory of the boy from the sea.

“It intrigues me,” Jackson admitted. “Intelligent life,” he clarified, “One outside of our own kind.”

Mark hummed. He could not wholly understand it, but people were hard to understand.

“The Mer People,” Mark murmured. He spoke cautiously, as if he were afraid of how Jackson would respond. “They’re not friendly beings. They used to sing sailors to their death, lure children to drown. You’ve heard the stories.”

 _You know how it goes_.

Jackson shifted.

“I know,” he said, still looking out the window.

 _Do you want to die?_ Mark bit the words down; let them erode in the acid in his stomach, bubbling down like a bad meal. Mark didn’t understand whether Jackson was dumb, or whether he really did know, and whether he was merely curious, like the twins who had found the witch’s gingerbread house.

He didn’t know what to think. Curiosity and carelessness were dangerous traits to contain in one boy.

 

 

Outside of his shared apartment with Jinyoung, Mark had to admit that he was at a loss of what to do. The urgency to contain the creature back in the glass had pushed him out the door, but now that he stood in the middle of winter – a cold breeze shattering through his coat – he wasn’t quite certain what he should do next. There was no app that would let him track Jaebum. He was as lost here as he was in the apartment, a boy stuck in the middle of a situation he didn’t quite understand. Mark sighed, shifting. The world continued on – people continued walking, shops made profit, the Earth continued to turn – yet to Mark, it felt like the world was falling, caving into itself like fission, explosive and unsteady. He was back at square one, lost and uncertain – Jaebum’s intentions unclear – and he felt like he was seventeen again, friends with Jackson and stumbling onto a thread that just kept tangling.

They’d been young, once. Mark had been young and directionless and Jackson had been off with the fairies, and they’d been young and childlike and dangerous and somehow faded, people living in a world they weren’t completely part of. In between classes and family they’d been into the ocean, and in between that they’d met Jaebum.

It was Mark who had met Jaebum, because if Jackson had met him, it would’ve been too suspicious.

It had been hot, once. In the middle of winter people found it hard to believe that once the sun had been glaring, a sweltering summer stuck in the middle of nightly visits to the ocean and pretty scents they couldn’t name, and when Jackson dragged Mark to the beach in the day and insisted on buying over-priced ice-cream, Mark couldn’t quite deny him. He pushed his fringe back and stared at the flavours while Jackson frowned, pretending to debate over what to get when he knew that he would always get caramel fudge. A child in front of them cried when her mother pretended to eat all her ice-cream, and when Jackson dashed to the bathroom, Mark held two cones of ice-cream and looked like an idiot in front of the shop.

Jaebum had looked lost. He had been in washed jeans and a white top and he had looked hopelessly lost in amidst the laughing children and the teenagers skating around the footpaths. Mark had been minding his own business.

“Sorry,” Jaebum lied. “I’m a little lost; do you think you can help direct me to my friend’s house?”

Mark nodded dumbly. He looked at the address – black ink, like calligraphy, on a thick yellow card – and couldn’t recognise it at all. He felt bad when he told the other he didn’t know. He had run out of data last week, he explained, so he couldn’t look up the address – his phone plan doesn’t renew until Wednesday. Jaebum’s lips turned, and Mark felt sorry for him.

“I can help you look for it though,” Mark said, “If you like.”

Jaebum’s eyes brightened. “That would be nice, yes.”

When Jackson returned, Mark explained the predicament. Jackson didn’t seem to mind. He was going to wait for his sea boy anyway. They agreed to meet up at their usual spot – the sand just before the rocks.

“Be careful,” Mark warned. Jackson laughed.

Mark knew streets. He was good with streets – recognised roads and avenues more than landmarks and memories. With Jaebum and his melting ice-cream, Mark walked around the beach in flip-flops, past a hill towards residential areas and around the rounding tar that lead further up the coast. Jaebum followed, laughing good-naturedly as Mark became flustered, certain that he’d seen the road before. Nothing seemed unusual to Mark, young and directionless – that he was accompanying a stranger around the beach; that they could easily ask someone for their phone and google the address, but instead they were walking around in the sun, Mark in flip-flops and Jaebum in his thick, warm jeans. The cats they passed all mewled at him pitifully, and Mark should’ve realised that they weren’t playing kid games anymore when Jaebum didn’t sweat a bit.

“Ah, finally!” A street sign caught Mark’s eye. He showed Jaebum the card, and then the street. It was in the opposite direction of where they had been initially heading.

Jaebum moved to take the card from Mark’s hands. His fingers felt cold – like he’d been holding ice-cream – and on the underside of his wrist, Mark caught sight of a strange piece of ink. Dark lines and swirls seem to spiral all out of an eerie eye, one that children drew when they lacked precision and detail – a teardrop shape with a small dot in the middle to signify the iris and pupil. As his gaze moved down the latter’s arm, Mark noticed vines sprouting from the swirls.

Jaebum’s laughter took Mark out of his trance. The latter stretched his arm to expose his arm.

“Ah,” Mark felt himself flush. “Does it mean something?”

Jaebum smiled. “It’s a reminder.”

Mark raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah? For what?”

Jaebum shrugged.

“Secret,” he explained, and Mark should’ve left then.

But he was seventeen, so he didn’t.

Instead they followed the street and realised that as they walked forward, the numbers were getting bigger, not smaller. If they continued backwards, they were back at the beach. Mark frowned. The location on Jaebum’s card seemed to lead to the ocean.

“Don’t suppose your friend lives in the sea,” Mark joked.

Jaebum smiled.

“He does like the ocean a lot. I guess I got his address wrong, then. Sorry for the hassle.”

It was Mark’s turn to smile. “No hassle. We all make mistakes.”

Jaebum nodded. Mark knew cues. He was ready to turn away, find Jackson, pull him away from whatever boy-eating-monster he’d found himself with today in the sweltering summer. But Jaebum grabbed his arm – fingers cold like a summer treat – and when Mark’s ear was near his mouth he said,

“Can I see you again?”

Mark blinked. His mind went on holiday. Jaebum waited, and then asked again.

“I quite like you. When will we meet again?”

Mark frowned. He racked his brain.

“Jackson and I,” he said, stammered really. He called for his conscience but it refused to come home. “We come here a lot in the night. You’re free to join us.”

He regretted it the moment he said it. Jackson and Mark’s night escapades were a secret. Inviting Jaebum would mean explaining why they’d found a merman in the ocean. He held his breath, and to his relief, Jaebum laughed.

“I don’t think you understand,” he murmured. His voice was low and sweet, and Mark shivered. “I’m not interested in being friends.”

Mark frowned. Jaebum’s lips moved from his ear to his cheek and when he felt a peck, Mark thought _oh_.

 “I’ll give you my number,” Mark said, palming around his jeans for his phone. “Or you can give me yours, whatever you like.”

“I don’t have a phone,” Jaebum replied.

And in retrospect, Mark thought that was his red flag. If the world gave out signs, this was a sign he should walk away. Because no one Jaebum’s age didn’t have a phone. People forgot their phones, and their phones died, but they never didn’t have one. Jaebum laughed.

“I’m new here,” he said, as if this was an explanation. Mark got lost in the pretty stranger with his strange tattoo and ear of piercings. “Let’s meet up again.”

“Okay,” Mark said dumbly. “Okay.”

And everything stemmed from that.

Now, standing outside his apartment without a clue where Jaebum could be, Mark started walking. It was the only thing he knew to do. There were two possibilities to where Jaebum could be. One was that Jaebum didn’t want Mark to find him. If this was true, he would disappear; go somewhere Mark couldn’t deduce because Jaebum wasn’t human and drawn to places with meaning. In the first case, Mark would be at a loss, and his walking would be meaningless.

The second, the outcome Mark was hoping for, was that Jaebum would want Mark to find him – would want to play something akin to cat and mouse – and as a result he would return to places they’d gone together, places which held meaning to their time together. Mark’s search for the latter was depending quite pathetically on this.

The world may have been Mark’s, but right now he felt like he was playing in Jaebum’s court.

He shifted his hood to cover his face, walking along the footpath with only the slightest idea of what he was looking for. The sidewalk was still wet from the rain, and every street drain was flooded by dirty water. The storm had only lasted one night, yet it looked like people hadn’t been out of their house in days. A homeless woman sat on the side of an alley, her hair drenched. Mark paused, turning to get a better look of her.

Her clothes were still dripping water. A white scarf around her neck was now an ugly brown. Nude pinks and yellows on her skirt seemed more putrid than they had been before due to the rainwater. Mark faltered. By the time he’d paused, he realised it was inappropriate to continue walking. He felt around for his wallet, pulling out whatever change he had. When he put it in her upturned hat, she looked up.

“Ah,” she said. Her voice sounded rusty and foreign. Mark struggled to understand her. “You’re the one looking for the boy, aren’t you?”

Mark blinked.

“Pardon?”

“You’re looking for the boy,” she repeated. “He was here, said someone would come looking for him. Told me to give you this.”

She held out a small folded card. It was one from those two dollar playing card sets, plain and simple, the kind high-schoolers played with because they were always careless with their things. When Mark unfolded it, he saw the three of diamonds.

The lowest card in Big Two.

This must’ve been a joke, he thought. He thanked the woman and continued walking.

 

 

It wasn’t like Jackson had a death wish. Not really.

Back then, at seventeen, Jackson had been young and childish and hungry for some kind of fairy-tale love. And who better to provide it than the sea boy from ocean?

It was a Monday when he met Jaebum. They were at school – him and Mark, falling asleep at nine AM – forced awake by the sound of textbooks hitting the table. At the front of the room, their maths teacher stood with a boy around their age.

His name was Jaebum. He was a new student, just moved in from the country. He was everything any teenager wanted in a first love – dangerous with his ruffled collar, uniform fitted and attractive on his built frame. A string of black piercings lined his ear, strange ink on his arm matching the colour of his hair. And if Jackson had to guess, a penchant for rebelling. If Jackson was into mysterious, deadly boys from the sea, Mark would be into the new boy with a motorbike and cigarettes in his pocket.

They already knew each other, apparently, if Mark’s flushed face and shy smiles were anything to go by. They had their next class together and they were gone as soon as they came, Jaebum’s hand on Mark’s wrist even though Mark was the one who knew the way. Mark was like a particle in motion; moving only due to external forces, never something within.

Jackson sat through his next class dully, and out of the corner of his eye he saw two boys run to the side of the school, Mark’s hand in Jaebum’s, and while he pretended to consider Taylor’s polynomial and the epsilon-delta definition of a limit, he watched through the window as Jaebum smirked, blowing smoke in Mark’s face and leaning in to kiss him, cigarette abandoned on the floor. Jaebum drank in Mark’s laughter with his lips and Mark had never been the best student, but he had never skipped chemistry until then.

They met Jackson back for lunch. Mark smelled like smoke even though Jackson knew he didn’t. When Jaebum leaned over to whisper in his ear, Mark giggled. They fed each other food like they were a couple. Perhaps they were. And of course Mark would fall for the new boy at school with the funny piercings and strange tattoos. Mark was directionless, Jackson thought, Mark was lost and he was dull and he was desperately searching for some sort of purpose that would guide him along, forcing him out of the drifting state. He was like jellyfish floating aimlessly in the sea. And Jaebum’s grip was strong, it was confident, and it would lead Mark wherever he wanted to go. They went to the movies and they went to the zoo, they went hiking and they did daring stunts, adrenaline-pumping stunts and skydived and zip-lined along a flying fox and Mark loved it all.

And not once did either boy even think Jaebum and Jinyoung had planned it all.

 

 

They called Jaebum many names. As times changed, so did the word for his kind. In the beginning they were just creatures, gods, walks of mystery, things that couldn’t be placed. They were mages, wizards, forest folk – sometimes their name depended on location, sometimes it depended on culture. Jinyoung and all the sea people called him _lamia_ – the roughest translation being:

 _Witch_.

The humans used to burn humans once. They burned them in the name of witches. And back then Jaebum had laughed in the middle of the town, a voice persuading the strange men of the town to accuse their wives, their daughters, their lovers and their friends – all of this concept that had proven to be of no wrong. In the East, they were wearier. The further out he went, the more rural and isolated, the more their minds had time to wonder. The more afraid they became.

In the city, they hardly knew what he was.

Mark had once described what Jaebum had with Jinyoung as a symbiotic relationship, one where two creatures mutually benefit from an arrangement. The boy from the sea would bring in beautiful teenagers with desperate hearts, ones ready to love immediately; ready to feel at beck and call. He would seduce them and make them longing, feel a pull towards drowning and the sea. And if this was enough, the sea boy would eat him alone. But sometimes they were smarter, sometimes they were more guarded, and sometimes they were so filled with heart and love that they wanted to save the sea boy, they wanted to make him human, bring him to the shore and fall in love. And this is when Jaebum, conveniently placed in the human’s life – never too close, always something distant and available, a friend’s friend, a teacher, a neighbour, _his best friend’s boyfriend_ – would offer to make the human boy a deal.

And he would grant the human boy’s wish, but never correctly. Because, you see, to wish for the love of a sea boy and his saving are two wishes. And a human boy can only afford one. If he has the love of a sea boy, he will die, because the human boy will never specify what kind of love he wants, and the sea boy has a terrible affinity for the heart. If the human boy chooses to the make the sea boy human, he will not have his love, and what is the point in that? The rejection will destroy the human boy, and eventually he will ask Jaebum for a second wish.

The wish for the sea boy’s love.

And in exchange, the sea boy will revert back to his original form and eat the human.

Jaebum always laughed, because no matter which way it went, the human boy never seemed to win. He listened for calls from the Mer people, waited for them to lure him back, and then the _lamia_ would take on a human form and weave a tale of misery into the lives of the human soul.

 

 

Once Jackson had walked along the edge of the obsidian rocks and asked the sea boy, “Do you remember how you were born?”

Jinyoung raised an eyebrow. He was treading water a metre away from Jackson’s rock, looking as though it took no effort at all. He could probably do it for hours. The merman’s tail made ripples in the ocean, displacing small fish from their homes.

“Why do you ask?” He said. He laughed like a melody, a sound that should’ve seemed mocking, but Jackson was too much in love.

He shrugged.

“I’m curious,” Jackson said.

“About what?”

“About how all these things came about.” He said, waving towards the ocean. He looked out longingly, gaze moving affectionately from Jinyoung to the sea. “Were you the first form of life created?”

Jinyoung smiled, but there was something behind his eyes. Something that didn’t understand.

“You only exist in folklore,” Jackson explained. “But all life evolved from a single ancestor. We all started from the ocean. Were you born from the same thing? How did you evolve immortality? Is the origin of all life a mystery to you as well?”

Jinyoung frowned.

“Did you see the dinosaurs? Did you see Ediacaran lifeforms? Were we once the same? Where do you fit in our taxonomies? Do you remember when you were born?” Jackson’s eyes softened. His voice became quiet, wistful like a song. “Does immortality impair your memory?”

It was no longer fun for the boy from the sea. Somewhere in the middle, Jinyoung’s frown had morphed into a scowl. He swam closer to the rocks, his eyebrows furrowed and movements somehow menacing. Long claws scraped against the rock Jackson stood on, impaling it as if acting as an example of what Jinyoung could do.

“You ask a lot of questions,” Jinyoung murmured, a threat bubbling in his tone, “A lot of questions for someone who cannot even control their own feelings.”

Jackson blinked.

“You don’t remember,” he said slowly, in realisation. He was in awe. “You don’t know how you started.”

The sea boy’s claws moved up the rocks, scraping down with a terrible screech. Mark was looking up now. He was standing near Jackson and had his arm extended; ready to pull his best friend back.

“Here’s a suggestion,” Jinyoung’s voice sounded mild, but his eyes were harsh, “You should mind your own business, little human boy.”

Jackson smiled. Mark had his arm now. “At least I remember how I was born.”

They headed off before he could cause any more trouble, Mark dragging his friend back. Jinyoung retracted his claws, a growl settling in his throat.

The _lamia_ visited him later on that night. Jinyoung had sung, so Jaebum had followed. He sat on the edge of the rock Jackson had once been on, watching as the sea boy swirled his tail impatiently. Amusement flashed through his eyes, settling there like the tattoo on his arm. Midnight had passed and now the ocean was empty, a waves occasionally dipping to reveal hues of green, purple and white amongst the blue sea. The moon was only half-full that night.

“Do you remember how you started?” Jinyoung asked. His voice was soft, like a ripple through the night. The sea boy’s tail still swished angrily around the water – a nervous tick he’d gained over his years. It almost mirrored the creatures that he ate.

The _lamia_ smiled.

“Once I had,” he said. “It becomes murky now. I remember the important parts.”

The merman hummed. “You were around before me,” Jinyoung said. It was a question. The witch nodded.

“I was before many forms of life. Not here, though. I only came here when the humans started.”

Jinyoung tilted his head. “Why?”

Jaebum smiled.

“There was nothing to do before them,” he said. “It was boring before they came – too calm, too little self-destructive habits. The felines were only so much fun.”

Jinyoung could understand that. The sea children could hunt fish and sharks all they wanted, but nothing was quite as appetising as a shrieking human begging for life. He shook his head. The witch was fascinating, but this was not his reason to call the witch.

 “Do you know how we started?” Jinyoung asked.

Again, the witch nodded. The sea boy began to swim slowly towards the rock, fingers turning to claws. He grabbed Jaebum’s legs, eyes dark.

“How?” His voice sounded like a hiss, low in the night, unable to contain his curiosity. Jinyoung trapped the witch’s leg between his claws, sharp ends scraping against his skin.

Jaebum smiled.

“I can’t tell you for free.”

Jinyoung growled. “What’s the price?”

The witch laughed. “More than you can afford.”

The merman was not satisfied with this response. His frown deepened.

“Surely,” he said slowly. “Surely there must be something.” For effect, he pierced his claws into the witch’s legs. Jaebum looked amused. He pretended to consider the proposition.

“You can give up the human boy to me,” the witch purred. “And all your other subsequent prey. You don’t value much. It’s hard to make a deal with you, you must understand.”

He pulled his legs out of Jinyoung’s grasp.

“Hand over all your food to me,” Jaebum smiled, “And we have a deal.”

Jinyoung glared.

“I’ll die.”

The witch smiled.

“No deal then.”

He pushed himself off the rock, walking back towards the shore. The sea boy watched as the witch retreated back. He thought about singing a song, a dark one, an angry one, one that would lure the _lamia_ into sea and drown him as he did with human boys. But he was not sure if it worked on the witch, the witch who had been alive longer than they had, who had been somewhere before here. Jinyoung tried to remember, tried to will himself to unearth the earliest memory, the longest memory, the one he could remember nothing before. But his mind refused to comply, and some part of his chest started to ache. But it was dull, so he could suppress it, ignore and bury it, until he was sure that it did not exist at all.

 

 

On a Saturday night Mark had slept over at Jackson’s. His car was parked on the street and the two of them shared a bed like lost boys do. Mark was on his phone and so was Jackson and they had been sharing a bowl of prawn crackers and one litre of coke when Jackson confessed,

“Mark, I think I love Jinyoung.”

Mark had blinked. He put down his phone and said, “The sea boy?”

“The sea boy,” Jackson confirmed.

Mark rolled over to face Jackson, looking at the boy with long eyelashes and big eyes and who was the personification of a huge, loving puppy – one desperate for love and affection and innocence. His expression didn’t change.

“The sea boy,” Mark murmured, repeating the words, tasting them, remembering how it all sounded. “You know he wants to kill you right?”

Jackson nodded. “Yeah.”

“And he wants to eat your heart?”

“Yeah.”

“And he’s made it really clear that at any point, any point at all that you consent, he will pull you down and drown you.”

“Yeah.”

Mark laughed, but it lacked humour.

“You’re fucking crazy.”

Jackson laughed as well.

“Yeah.”

And this is what Mark thought it was like to be a teenager. To have so much love to give and have so little people to give it to. To have so much love that it makes you vulnerable, that it hurts you and scars you and perhaps in Jackson’s case kills you, but to continuously yearn to love nevertheless. And perhaps Mark was the same way with the strange boy with tattoos and piercings on his ear. So in some way, some twisted, irrational, strange way, he understood Jackson, understood this weird feeling that threatened to consume him, this desire to dive in headfirst, unguarded and childlike in direction. Mark let out a sigh.

“Don’t die,” He said.

Jackson smiled.

“I won’t.”

Mark shook his head. “How can you be so sure?”

Jackson’s hand searched for Mark’s, palming aimlessly against his sheets until it found another warm hand. They entwined their hands as close friends did, friends who were more familial than platonic, and when Jackson spoke again; his voice was like a whisper, one like a child telling a secret that no one else understood.

“Because I’m going to save him,” Jackson whispered, like he was the first human boy to think of it. “I’m going to make him human.”

 

 

“You’re not human.” It took a while for Jackson to process that, his voice soft and worn from crying. Jinyoung continued to hold him. They had, by this time, moved to the living room, cuddling on the couch as Jackson frowned. He couldn’t understand how he had lost time. “You’re not human.”

“I wasn’t human,” Jinyoung corrected him. “I am now.”

Jackson shook his head. He couldn’t quite grasp it, not quite. He knew Mark and Jinyoung lived in their own world, in their own sort of tangled time, but never this. Never had he expected this. He frowned, and Jinyoung held him tighter. His embrace felt so familiar, felt so homely like they’d been there before. Jackson couldn’t understand it. He couldn’t, never. This felt like a fairy-tale and he was constantly waiting for someone to wake him up, for the snap of fingers, for someone to admit that this was all an elaborate plan. All a joke to fool Jackson – he was waiting for the curtains to roll, for the show to end, for the big reveal – but it never came. It wouldn’t. He looked down at his hands.

This – this was all real.

“I don’t understand,” he stammered. Jinyoung looked on patiently. “How…?”

“The _lamia_ made me human,” Jinyoung said.

He released his arms from Jackson and the latter didn’t know why he felt so lost. Jinyoung met his confused eyes with a laugh.

“I’m just going to get some tea,” he said. “You should turn on the television.”

Jackson did as he was told. Everything felt like it was too much. Twenty-four hours ago he was a normal boy, then a storm hit and suddenly he had a best friend and a sea boy he couldn’t remember. He didn’t know what to think. Where had all this lost time gone? Was Jinyoung telling the truth? Jackson didn’t have much to prove that what the former was saying were lies. What did Jinyoung have to gain by lying to him? There was nothing. He sighed.

How did time disappear?

It didn’t quite make sense, Jackson thought as he searched for the remote, yet it did at the same time. He had always found it strange that he couldn’t remember much from his last few years at high school. Everyone had missing time. Everyone had years of their lives that they barely remembered – years that seemed like blurs or mist-covered memories, strangled by time alone. For his roommate Youngjae, it was around seventh and eighth grade. He said that he could barely remember what those years consisted of, only that he had gone to school and continued being with the same friends until he graduated. But for Jackson he’d been older, and for some reason he hadn’t remembered much from those years. People always asked him what he liked the most about high school, what he missed, but somehow those memories only seemed to stem from the tenth grade. He couldn’t remember what he liked and hated most from high school because he could barely remember it. The bridge between university and high school was covered with mist, and Jackson found it hard to cross to even remember his junior years.

Maybe this is where all the time had gone – to his best friend who he could no longer remember, to the merman who became human and the witch that was now on the loose.

Jackson turned on the television. The screen flashed and a monotonous voice reported a stabbing in their area, pictures coloured grey by the rain. Jackson wasn’t focusing; he let the words pass through him as he tried to rack his brain for thoughts. He didn’t know what he was wanted – did he expect Jinyoung’s story to lift a veil from his mind? Reveal what he couldn’t remember? Did he think this would be a refresher, complete with a sudden bout of understanding? Even in his head it sounded stupid. Things that he couldn’t remember wouldn’t suddenly be solved by a boy telling stories about a past he didn’t recall. Jackson sighed, throwing himself back onto the couch with even less knowledge than he’d started with. The more he seemed to learn, the less he seemed to know.

 Jinyoung placed a mug of green tea in front of him, turning to the television.

“Shit,” Jinyoung said. “Shit, shit, shit.”

He reached for his phone. Jackson watched the other dully.

“Hey Mark, it’s Jinyoung. Jaebum’s heading towards the beach.”

Jackson couldn’t hear what was said on the other line.

“Yeah, yeah that one…he was on the news, a mysterious stabbing between our apartment and the beach…yeah, are you sure you don’t want us to come?...yes, I had to, of course I had to…I don’t know,” Jinyoung ran a hand through his hair. “How else was I meant to explain this? I had to tell him, Mark…I don’t know, I don’t know what he thinks. He hasn’t said anything to refute it…yeah, yeah – just stay safe, won’t you?”

There was a pause.

“Yeah, you too, bye.” Jinyoung hung up the phone, smiling apologetically at Jackson.

Jackson stared at his tea, watching the dark brown colour form. Jinyoung had forgotten to take out the tea bags. His green tea would be very strong, but Jackson didn’t mind. He frowned.

“The witch,” Jackson murmured. “ _Lamia_ , whatever you call him – what does he do?”

Jinyoung’s smile was thin. “He grants wishes,” he explained. “He grants wishes in exchange for something of equal value. You must give up something you value as much as your wish.”

His laughter was dark.

“But _lamia_ never grant wishes the way their bearers desire.”

“And did he…?” Jackson trailed off. Jinyoung looked solemn.

“He took your memory,” he agreed.

Jackson tilted his head; held in within his hands.

“Why?” He asked.

Jinyoung looked away.

 

 

Mark followed Jinyoung’s warnings, but he was wrong. Jaebum was not heading to the beach. Not yet. On the way from their apartment to the beach was a small café, one near Mark and Jackson’s old high school, tucked in an alleyway far away from the energy of children. It had been a frequent spot for the two best friends since they had entered seventh grade with acne and a distorted sense of self-importance. Quiet, jazzy tunes seemed a world away from the recent stabbing, even though they were only a few metres away.  Mark pushed the door open and sounded a small chime.

When Mark was seventeen, he’d taken Jaebum here once after school. Jackson had come along and they’d sat in the corner near all the orange, ornate cushions, ordering icy frappes and laughing the afternoon away. Jaebum always kept an arm around his shoulder and it made him feel grounded, present in the world that he inhabited, not floating off into the ocean or space. Jaebum was his anchor in the world, laughing accordingly to Jackson’s animated stories, always with a grip on where they were and where they should be. When Mark flew too far into his own mind, Jaebum would tug him closer.

“Mark,” he said, “Did you finish today’s chemistry sheet?”

“Oh,” he stuttered, reaching into his bag. He shook off his own daze. “Yeah.”

Jackson grinned. “Great! Let me copy, please?”

It wasn’t a question. Mark would do anything for his best friend. He pulled out the sheet and slid it across the table, Jaebum humming into his hair as Jackson scrambled to copy down the answers.

“You’re the best, Mark,” Jackson said.

Jaebum kissed him on the lips.

“Yeah,” he said, “You are the best.”

Mark’s heart fluttered. Jackson made a sound, but he was occupied by Mark’s chemistry notes, so Jaebum took the chance to kiss Mark deeply, passionately, seriously, tasting faintly of cigarettes and chai tea. And for them, that was happiness.

“I love you,” Mark giggled against his lips, and he meant it.

“I love you,” Jaebum smiled, but he was lying.

The café had been quiet and secluded, allowing them to spend as long as they wanted in their own little world. Jackson produced a pack of cards after he’d finished copying Mark’s homework – and proceeded to spill chocolate over half of it – suggesting that they play Big Two now that they had three players. He dealt four decks and left one deck to the side.

“I don’t know how to play,” Jaebum confessed. Jackson crackled.

“Don’t tell him!” He cried. “Don’t tell him, let him figure it out.”

Jaebum looked helplessly at his boyfriend, who grinned, giving him a shrug. His face settled into a scowl.

“I hate you both,” he said.

Mark kissed him quickly.

“Now,” Jackson said, “Who has the diamonds three?”

They played fast and Jaebum learned the rules quickly from Jackson’s shrieks and Mark’s occasional explanations, his smile kind even when Jackson swatted away Jaebum’s mistakes. Mark and Jackson were quick but Jaebum learned quicker, and when he won his first round, Mark pecked his lips and Jackson called him a fake.

“No way you won,” he said, incredulous. Jaebum looked smug, drawing Mark closer to his body.

“Check it,” he dared. Mark laughed, loudly and sincerely, and Jackson frowned.

“I don’t know how,” he cried, “But you cheated.”

It didn’t matter. Jackson’s phone rang soon after, a shrill demand to get home and start cooking dinner. He packed his bags and glared meaningfully at the couple.

“Mark can’t date a cheater,” he accused. He walked out straight after that for extra measure.

Mark smiled, laughing at his friend and then up at his boyfriend. Jaebum’s arm moved to circle around his waist and he moved closer to the solid body behind him, somehow still not as warm as him. Mark thought maybe he just had a higher body temperature than most. His phone made a sound, forcing Mark to look down.

_jackSON: are we still on for tonight?_

Jaebum’s eyes followed his. His tone was teasing. “What are you doing tonight? Are you cheating on me?”

Mark laughed.

“With Jackson? No!” He crackled. “If I were cheating on you, I could think of a million people who I’d rather cheat on you with than Jackson.”

Jaebum raised an eyebrow.

“So you do think about cheating on me.”

Mark laughed.

“No! No!” He moved towards Jaebum, playing with his hair. “I’m joking. I wouldn’t cheat on you.”

Jaebum smiled.

“I don’t think I believe you.”

They kissed and laughed like little children. When Jaebum grabbed his wrists, he kissed Mark deeply, lips firm yet gentle on his. Mark laughed and pulled him closer, leaning in so that there was no space between them.

“So what are you and Jackson doing tonight?” Jaebum asked. “If not eloping.”

Mark bit his lip. His back was pressed against Jaebum’s, preventing him from looking the other in the eye. He took a few moments to speak.

“Do you believe in…” Mark struggled to find the word for it. “ _Creatures_?”

Jaebum laughed. “I do believe in dogs and cats as creatures, yes.”

Mark elbowed him in the ribs.

“Of course,” he rolled his eyes. He took a few deep breaths. “I mean other creatures. Non-human intelligent life. Folklore creatures, mermen, faeries, things like that…”

In defence of his own words, he laughed.

“Sounds silly, doesn’t it?”

Jaebum shrugged.

“The world is a strange place.”

Mark smiled. “It is, isn’t it?”

“I believe in a lot of things,” Jaebum said. “The more you see, the more you believe.”

Mark nodded. He remembered the first time the merman had emerged from the water.

“Yeah,” he murmured. Jaebum’s arm removed him from his daze.

He blinked.

“We saw a merman at the beach,” Mark whispered. “The one we met at. One night we were on the rocks and we saw a merman, saw his tail and everything. Jackson became enthralled in him. Named him and everything. He visits him every night.”

Jaebum, to Mark’s surprise, was not shocked. He simply asked, “And you?”

Mark chuckled.

“I’m just the driver.”

His arms wrapped around Mark’s shoulders.

“You and Jackson seem very close,” he hummed.

Mark nodded. “Jackson’s like my brother,” he murmured. “You don’t let your brother play with dangerous things alone. Someone has to keep him out of the fire.”

“The Mer are dangerous things,” Jaebum agreed. “In lore, they sing and drown men to their deaths.”

“They are not friendly creatures,” Mark said. “I think you’ll find that most intelligent creatures aren’t.”

“Even humans?”

Mark laughed. “Even humans.”

Jaebum hummed.

“What a funny thing for a human to say,” he murmured. But Mark didn’t hear him. Instead he played with the drawstrings of his hoodie, thinking absently about the boy at the sea.

“Jackson is starting to fall in love with the merman,” Mark said quietly. “I have to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

Jaebum hummed.

“This cannot end well,” Mark continued. “But it does not have to end now.”

Mark was helpless, and Jaebum saw his chance. With his fingers threaded in the boy’s hair, he hummed and soothed his boyfriend into a trance, one that left him open to suggestion. In a voice as sweet as honey and lower than the night’s whisper, he spoke of a creature that could grant Jackson’s wish at a price less than his life. Softly, he whispered about the witch, the _lamia_ who granted wishes in exchange for a small price – not for free, but nothing in life was provided at no cost. The witch who could be summoned by obtaining the merman’s pearl, the witch who would save the sea boy and spare Jackson’s life. His voice was soothing like lore whispered between elders in the night, the sight of wildfire and the smell of ash and cinnamon flooding one’s nose. In the small café where they learned to play Big Two, where they repeatedly visited to play Big Two, Mark was overcome with purpose and reason to prevent Jackson’s spiral. He knew what he had to do.

They must summon a witch and ask for a wish.

 

 

Mark ordered an iced Americano at the counter, moving towards his usual seat. He hadn’t been in the café since he was seventeen, but as his fingers ran across the edge of the table, he could still feel the markings he had made with Jackson when they were fifteen. He sat on the plush cushions and was overcome with the sensation of Jaebum’s arms around him, pulling him back to lean into his chest. Memories bubbled over him like a tidal wave and Mark remembered why he hadn’t come back.

His fingers felt around the cushion, desperate for some kind of message, an indication, any indication that Jaebum had been here. His hands snuck under decorative orange cushions – subtly, to avoid suspicion – until his fingers curled around something hard and plastic. He pulled out a Queen of Hearts, confused.

Jaebum was here, but he didn’t know the meaning of the Queen of Hearts.

Mark continued searching, left hand reaching under a second pillow. At first he thought it was pointless – all he could feel was fabric, and there was no doubt that he looked like an idiot – maybe this was all Jaebum wanted to do: place a single card because they never seemed to do anything but play when Jackson was around. But as he stretched further, he felt plastic again. This time he found the Queen of Diamonds.

His drink arrived and Mark produced the Queen of Clubs from the bottom of his seat. He was pretty sure he knew what the last card would be.

Once they’d been to a cat café on a date,  Jackson dragging his friend Namjoon along because he ‘didn’t want to third-wheel’. It had been warm and the drinks had been sweet and Mark remembered how the cats had crawled towards Jaebum immediately, surrounding his boyfriend as soon as they’d entered the shop. Jaebum had smiled, and Mark had huffed in feigned jealously.

“Looks like you have some competition,” Jackson laughed. Mark pouted, watching Jaebum ruffle his hair, his other hand scratching the neck of a black cat.

They’d gone about playing Big Two again, because Jackson was a sucker for a challenge and four people were perfect for a game. Mark was a good arm’s length away from Jaebum due to the sheer amount of cats.

Mark had the perfect plan. He had only three cards left – the Spades Two and a low doubles to play. Namjoon had set a singles round into play and all Mark had to do was wait for Jackson to play his card, throw down the Spades Two, and start the final round with his winning double threes. Jackson put down the Queen of Spades and Mark threw down his highest card, grinning in victory. Namjoon groaned.

“You had it!” Jackson accused him. “You had it all along!”

Mark shrugged, a smile dancing on his lips. He laughed a little, ready to win the game. But as he was about to throw down his last two cards, Jaebum pulled out a four of a kind.

Four fours stared back at him, and Mark looked incredulous as his eyes moved from the pile to his boyfriend, surrounding by cats, one card left in his hand and an innocent smile bracing his lips. The black cat in his lap purred and Mark scrunched his nose.

“Sorry babe,” Jaebum smiled, tilting his head as he put down a diamonds five. Namjoon was shocked, Jackson had started crackling, and Mark pouted at his boyfriend.

“Why did you do that?!” He accused. He wanted to hit Jaebum, but the tabby cat to his boyfriend’s left seemed intent on defending him, latching onto his arm like a shield.

Jaebum shrugged. He reached out to hold Mark’s chin between his fingers.

“All’s fair in love and war.”

“Sucked in!” Jackson shrieked. “Sucked the fuck in, you little snake!”

That night when they’d left the cat café Jaebum had pretended he’d forgotten his coat, forcing Mark back into the store. The black cat he’d been with earlier perked up, interested by his arrival, but Jaebum paid it little attention, watching from the window as Jackson and Namjoon walked off. He waited for them to disappear from their sight, before he pulled Mark back out and kissed him violently, passionately with enough bite to bleed. And Mark curved into his touch, laughed and whined as he felt Jaebum’s hand on the back of his neck, pulling him closer and closer until only atomic space was between them.

Molecular Orbital Theory states that atoms will only form molecules if the resulting compound is more stable than the atoms alone, and Mark wondered briefly in that moment if that applied to people as well, because even if Jaebum made him feel like he was on fire, the hand resting on his back brought him back to Earth.

“Sorry about that,” Jaebum breathed. “The game.”

Mark smiled.

“I don’t care. Kiss me again, please.”

Jaebum did. Mark felt the movement of something soft, and when he pulled away he found the same black cat nuzzled against Jaebum’s leg, his tail curled around Mark’s. Mark laughed.

“They sure love you, don’t they?” He teased. “Are you sure you’re not the witch?”

Jaebum laughed, like it was funny as much as it was untrue. But it wasn’t. Mark kissed the witch and the witch kissed Mark back and the cat laughed at them, laughed as Mark’s senses seemed to tingle, as Jaebum’s tongue went deeper and Mark started to fall more in love. The witch had Mark wrapped around his finger, and if he was not careful, the witch would have Jackson as well.

Mark removed himself from his memories, shaking his head as he took his Americano – he’d asked for takeaway, after all – and moved towards the exit, pocketing the cards as he left. His heart warmed when he thought about the memories he’d shared there, but like everything concerning Jackson and Jaebum, it froze over soon after. The fondness he shared with them had been replaced with a bitterness concerning the betrayal, Jaebum’s lips as they kissed him that final time, laughter dancing on his lips that Mark could not share.

When he left, he was overcome with the feeling of being seventeen. He found himself lost, the chimes tinkling after him as he shut the door. He was back to being seventeen when the world was in his hands, when they told him he could be anything (really, anything) as long as he chose fast and he worked hard now. And Mark had never been good under pressure, he’d stumbled and wandered and decided that if he couldn’t make a decision now, he wouldn’t ever. Anything is possible if a choice hasn’t been made. Mark was at a crossroad and as long as he stayed put, all the roads were clear.

Now he was a different sort of lost. He knew now where Jaebum would be. If the latter had chosen to visit to their favourite café, he wanted Mark to find him. And if Jaebum wanted Mark to find him, he would naturally head to the beach. Everything would go back to the ocean. That was always Jackson’s favourite saying. Location was not a problem. Mark knew where his feet would propel him.

The problem now was what to do once he found Jaebum. His urge to follow the witch had led him out of the house, but here in the cold he was clueless, directionless as he had been before. How did a university student confront a witch? What was he to do? Chase Jaebum to the beach, stand his ground and demand that the witch fall back into his trap? Could he bargain with the witch? Jaebum always loved a good deal – it’s what kept him so close on Earth, drawn back to humanity and the gravitational pull of their flaws. The wicked witch had once smiled at him patronisingly, somehow bigger despite the fact he was contained in glass.

“You think I force people to transgress?” Jaebum clicked his tongue, mimicking disappointment. “You think I make people evil? That’s too boring, Mark.”

The witch had leaned into the glass, grinning widely to reveal a set of unnaturally sharp teeth. He laughed at Mark’s surprise.

“They think up those disturbing thoughts on their own. I only let them act upon it.”

Mark’s face must’ve given away everything, because the witch pulled back and laughed. Laughed cruelly, like he was mocking him. Mark had scowled and walked away.

Perhaps Mark could wish Jaebum to go away. He thought it was possible – there didn’t seem to be any rules to wish-granting, not any ones that Jaebum had mentioned anyway. Whether he would do it was a different question. Monster or not, Mark’s heart was still a little warm from Jaebum.

He sighed. The rain was getting heavier, and if Mark was not careful, he’d be caught in a storm.

 

 

Jinyoung hadn’t always felt this clear. His mind hadn’t always been this sound, this alive, brimming with all kinds of anxiety and happiness and strange fears. Once he’d been Mer and he’d felt nothing but muffled emotions, an insatiable hunger and a love to play with his food.

The last boy he’d tried to eat was Jackson. Which was only fitting, really, because Jackson wouldn’t have made for a wonderful meal. Perhaps he would’ve been alright – he held a lot of that good stuff, that kindness and yearning, the constant desire to love and fall in love – but he was also not completely seduced, still held down by his curiosity, his confusion which arose less from Jinyoung himself and more from the sea children in general. Jinyoung hadn’t been able to answer his question, couldn’t completely understand his own origins the way Jackson did. Jackson was born and then he would die, but somewhere along the way Jinyoung had missed that part.

There was something wrong that day. Jinyoung knew that from the moment he pierced through the surface, Jackson standing on his favourite rock, Mark perched on the other. Mark was Jackson’s pretty friend, dull like brass and boring because he could never feel as violently as his friend. Should Jinyoung have focused on Mark, he knew that the latter would not have made a good feast. Mark floated wherever he was pushed. He lacked the drive and will that made a tasty meal.

His eyes moved from Jackson to Mark, watching the way the latter’s eyes seemed duller than usual. The bright brown that caught most boys was muted in his eyes, clouded by something less than human. The witch had presented himself, Jinyoung thought. He licked his lips.

“Does your company like the sea?” Jinyoung asked.

Jackson smiled. There was something strange in his eyes, something that looked similar to pity. Jinyoung wanted to growl.

 _Pity,_ he thought, disgusted. _How dare he pity me? I’m not the one about to be eaten._

But if he wanted to eat, he would have to be patient. Instead he smiled back.

“Well?” He asked.

Jackson reached to grab his friend’s hand, something he did out of solace rather than romantic love. Jinyoung knew. People were not eaten by Mer through the power of familial or platonic love. They needed something much more violent. His tail swirled.

“I’m going to save you Jinyoung,” Jackson said, confident like only a young boy could be. And Jinyoung wanted to laugh, because that was not the first time he’d heard it.

“Alright,” Jinyoung laughed voice pleasant but somehow empty, a hollow echo of the sea. He smiled and watched Jackson’s eyes curve again, this time in sadness. “Be my guest.”

He pushed himself up onto the rock, claws wedged into the black rock.

Smiling, he purred, “Save me.”

Pity flashed in Jackson’s eyes again, and how desperately Jinyoung wanted to claw it off his face.

 

 

The beginning went as Jinyoung knew it would. Jackson asked for the pearl on his pinkie, promised him that he would thank him later, slid it off and looked at Mark, the witch’s human, all soft and innocent, under charm and glamour that kept him away from warning signs. Mark took the pearl out of Jackson’s hand and Jinyoung smiled.

“I’d be careful with that if I were you,” he purred. “Only the bearer gets to ask for their wish.”

Mark only glanced at him.

The pearl was soft between his fingers, cold like the ocean in winter. Jinyoung started humming a tune, one that lured the _lamia_ to the sea. In the beginning his voice was nothing but a whisper, a sound so soft it almost sounded like a breeze. But as they waited Jinyoung’s voice got louder, his singing became more distinct, and Mark considered the idea that the pearl had nothing to do with summoning the witch.

Like a show, mist surrounded them, enveloping them like lovers to create a haze of pale pinks and yellows, the merman smiling up from the water at them. Jackson clutched Mark’s hand and Mark held him tighter, eyes scanning their surroundings. The mist rose and soon they could no longer see the ocean, specks of gold and silver clear in its reach. Instead they saw pink; they saw yellow and orange like the sunset in summer, glitter rushing past them so fast they had to close their eyes. The mist heightened and then it fell, slowly dissipating to give way to the witch.

Jaebum, dressed in black jeans and a black dress shirt, sat perched on an adjacent rock. He smiled, inclining his head.

“I don’t,” Jackson stammered, he turned towards Mark, “I don’t understand.”

Mark frowned. He didn’t understand either. He gripped his friend’s hand harder, staring at his boyfriend. His fingers curled around the pearl like a fist. He didn’t have to look over to know that Jinyoung was smiling, the merman’s attention shifting excitedly between the boys and the witch. Mark hated this.

He tried to rack his brain. Where had he heard about the witch? It had seemed so innocent when he’d heard it, so truthful – a solution to the spiral Jackson seemed to have fallen into. It was Jackson’s mistake to have fallen for the sea boy, but Mark could never blame him, never fully. He tried to search his brain, but he was coming up dry. For some reason, he couldn’t remember where he’d first heard of the witch. All he knew is that at one point he had been lost, and then he had found his solution. Keep his friend, and find their happy ending. The solution had been so clear, yet its origins were so murky. Mark bit his lip, memories playing softly in his head.

And then a chuckle – one low and mocking – and then he was certain that it had been Jaebum who’d whispered about the witch.

“You,” his voice was usually quiet, but this time Mark could barely rise above a whisper. “You’re the witch.”

Jaebum shrugged. He looked up with a smile, one light and one that didn’t belong to Mark. This wasn’t his Jaebum. This wasn’t the boy he’d fallen in love with.

Mark couldn’t believe it. He didn’t want to.

“Where is he?” He said. He surged forward, but Jackson, level-headed, pulled him back. Mark stumbled as the witch laughed. “Where is he? What did you do to him? Where’s Jaebum?”

The witch smiled. He did not speak. Mark shook his head. This couldn’t be true. There had to be some catch, there _had to be_. Mark didn’t fall in love with no one. There was someone there, he was certain there was.

He had fallen in love with a human, he was certain.

“Where’s Jaebum?” He demanded. “Where did you put him? Where is he? Jaebum? _Jaebum_? Give him back his body.”

The witch sat up. Jackson’s grip tightened. Mark bit his lip as the waves crashed, Jinyoung looking on gleefully.

“Give me back Jaebum,” he faltered, his voice small. “Give him back.”

“Little boy…” It was Jinyoung who spoke, a soft purr like the waves at night. He was too pleased by this. He was too pleased, and Mark wanted to knock the teeth out of his pretty face.

 “ _Your Jaebum does not exist_.”

And Mark was certain that there was more. That that wasn’t the only thing that had happened. He was certain Jaebum had plunged his hand through his heart, broken every rib bone separately, weaved them into a nest and then tore out his heart, placing it in the centre like some kind of jewel. He was certain someone had pulled his spine from his body, hands had gorged out his eyes – something, anything that could explain why he felt like he was suffocating, drowning, betrayed like someone had cut through his veins, anything but the fact that Jinyoung whispered,

 _Your Jaebum does not exist_.

Mark did not break apart dramatically. But he also wasn’t graceful. Instead his layers started to fade and he was just as he had been before the witch had played his games. He was young and lost. He met Jaebum’s eyes, and watched his boyfriend smile.

This was the first time he learned to hate that smile.

Mark had always been planning to wish on behalf of Jackson. It had been his plan from the beginning. Jackson had too much to lose, he thought. Jackson had so much to lose – he loved to a fault, he was irrational as much as he was loyal, irresponsible and reckless. He became too wrapped in his purpose, and it made him vulnerable. Mark lacked these qualities. He wasn’t irrational like Jackson; he didn’t desire Jinyoung’s transformation as violently. But he lacked what Jackson had.

Mark lacked purpose.

Mark lacked direction and he lacked will, he didn’t know what he intended to achieve and what he had to do to get it. Jackson was different. Jackson had purpose, he had goals, and he wanted to do things in order to achieve them. And maybe Mark didn’t have that yet, maybe he didn’t know what he was doing, but he could help Jackson, couldn’t he? He could make his purpose to help Jackson. He could do something meaningful for his friend, something important – something that had an end. It was all for the goal, Mark thought. Everything he did for Jackson was for two reasons – a need for purpose, and a desire for gratitude. Jackson would love him if he did this, and Mark would’ve done something important in his life.

Perhaps it was only to Jackson, but maybe that was good enough. Maybe that was all the purpose he needed. He looked back at his former boyfriend, his heart breaking. Jaebum had given him purpose, but Jaebum had been a lie.

What more did he need?

“Jaebum,” he said softly. “I wish for Jinyoung to be human.”

Jaebum, despite his experience, did not reply immediately. He looked up at the human boy, Mark’s eyes still cloudy and dazed, uncertain like he had been when they’d met. Jackson shook his head.

“That isn’t your wish,” he said. He tugged on Mark’s hand. “That’s not your price. Don’t listen to him, Jaebum – witch, whatever – this isn’t his wish.”

Mark shook his hand out of Jackson’s. “It is. Grant my wish, Jaebum.”

Jinyoung’s laughter had died. This was not how it was meant to go. He could not eat Jackson’s heart if Mark was the one who had made the wish. His price wasn’t the same as Jackson’s.

He did not desire it as deeply as Jackson. Jaebum was still staring at Mark, eyes even, revealing nothing behind his dark orbs.

“Aren’t you the witch?” In Mark’s voice was a light taunt, his heart breaking as he spoke. “Grant my wish. I don’t care about the price. Make Jinyoung human, _save him_.”

“Unbelievable,” Jinyoung was incredulous. “No, no, _no_ this isn’t right.”

“It’s my wish,” Mark said. He looked at the body that had convinced him he was in love, and for a second, Mark faltered. His eyes softened looking at Jaebum’s face, memories washing over him like a plague. He tried to fight them off. “Grant me my wish.”

The witch couldn’t say no. The ink on his arm began moving, spirits marching to a beat of their own. Mark could never quite understand it; understand the science and logic behind the witch’s ability to grant a wish. But he supposed that like particle movement, not all things could be explained by the same classical laws. The witch had regained his smile, something delicate and devious, but Mark didn’t seem to care.

“As you wish.”

 

 

People didn’t understand what they wanted, Jaebum had found. They wish for one thing, but really want something completely different. At first Jaebum had thought it was a form of ignorance – a kind of stupidity only mortals could have – but soon he suspected that it was something to save face, to appear better in character than one was. He had never really understood it, understood why they worried what someone like him would think. But perhaps this was not right either. Eventually, he settled on the idea that humans didn’t wish for what they wanted because somewhere within their hearts, they didn’t want to believe in what they really wanted.

Jackson was like every other human boy who had fallen in love with Jinyoung. Jackson wanted Jinyoung’s love, but he also wanted to live. Jackson, if he had been the one to make the wish, should’ve asked to obtain Jinyoung’s love and keep his own life. Turning Jinyoung into a human was only a way of disarming him, removing his power and lust for murder. Jackson didn’t want to save Jinyoung, because the sea boy didn’t need saving. It was Jackson who needed saving. Jackson needed to be saved from his own infatuation with a monster.

And Mark, Mark didn’t really want Jinyoung to transform into a human. And he didn’t really want to please Jackson either. He wanted purpose. He wanted something to strive towards; he wanted a goal, any goal, anything that would lead him down a path, any path – anything that stopped him from meandering at the crossroads he seemed to be at. He wanted Jackson’s gratitude, wanted to mean something, to be something – something more than a boy floating in his own world. But Mark had not asked for that. And if Jackson had been given the chance, he would not have asked for what he really wanted either.

Humans were so funny, Jaebum thought. Humans were so tragic, so cruel, so chaotic in their ways. They were as mysterious as the origins of life. He had never understood them, but it had never bothered him. The witch was not human. He did not have the insatiable desire to understand. Instead he floated around their lives, played them like chess pieces, arranging them to be vulnerable, to seek solace, all in what only he could offer.

Jaebum gave Jinyoung legs. He turned his tail into two limbs and thawed his frozen heart, filled his hollow cave with lungs and brought his soul back from where it had been trapped. Jaebum made Jinyoung human again, made him tangible and vulnerable and mortal, poor in time as all humans were. In his mist he made a sea child human, and in exchange he took Mark’s family.

He couldn’t _take_ them physically, per say – Mark’s wish wasn’t worth that much – but he could erase them from his memory, create a hole that the boy would never be able to fix. Jaebum began erasing his memories with his family, etching out all his childhood sorrows and joys. Nostalgia washed over Mark, drowning him in its lust, its memory that seemed to fade.  It was like a wave of something urgent, something he didn’t want to forget – and blindly he started to grab at his memories, tried to hold them, bring them close. He was starting to forget them, he realised too late – _I didn’t mean it_ , he thought, _this wasn’t what I wished for_ – but the witch did not do returns.

His memories were starting to become a dream. He repeated facts in his head, tried to remember his parents and his siblings and how they’d all grown up. But details which had once been explicit started to fade, flattening into a blurry characters, then nothing at all. Mark couldn’t stop it. He didn’t know how to keep them. He was shoved back to his house, some months ago, a discussion in his house about something like his future, something he didn’t know. He was starting to forget it.

“No!” He screamed, he thought. He was starting to forget. “No, I don’t know yet, okay? I have no idea. Please stop talking about it.”

A blurry face – a woman, he thought – looked up, tilting her head.

“We’re just trying to help, Mark,” she said. “Please don’t get angry.”

“Well this isn’t helping!” His voice was rising. He stormed off, afraid he’d say something hurtful. “Let’s just not talk about it alright? Please? I don’t want to think about it. Not now, please – please, not now.”

“Mark…”

“I know!” He was screaming now. Why was he screaming? He didn’t want to remember this, he thought. Why did he have to remember this? “I know, the future’s right here, it’s tomorrow, I can’t keep walking in centres, I need goals – I _know_ , don’t you think I know? You don’t think I hear it all the time? I go to school, for fuck’s sake _of course I know_.” Why did he swear at her? “Please, I just want to go one place, just one bloody place where I don’t have to think about it. Just once, please, please let’s just drop it.”

He went up the stairs, but the higher he went, the more faded they got. Soon he was walking on concrete, then grey clouds, ones as ambiguous as dreams themselves. The staircase became a set of planks, then an outline, then finally nothing at all. He went into a room – his bedroom, he thought – but he couldn’t remember it. The walls were starting to fall.

Two people entered his room.

“Mark,” the woman spoke. Her voice was soft. “We were just going to tell you that it’s fine if you don’t know. We’re sorry we upset you.”

Mark wanted to apologise, but the Mark in his memory didn’t. His lips were pressed in a thin line. The ceiling lifted off.

“It’s alright if you don’t know where you’re going,” the man said. Was that his father? What did he sound like? All the voices were starting to sound the same. “I didn’t know what I was doing until I was out of uni in my first job. I don’t know a single person who knew what they were doing when they were twenty, let alone sixteen. No one knows what they’re doing, or what they want to be. It’s okay if you don’t know now.”

“We didn’t know it upset you so much,” the woman added. “Please don’t cry, Mark.”

“We love you no matter what you do.”

“We really love you.”

He changed his mind. He didn’t want to forget this. He really didn’t want to forget this. Why was he forgetting? What had they said? Mark clawed desperately at the memory, willing it to stay. He didn’t want to forget this. He really didn’t want to forget this. A mist clouded over his mind slowly, images slowly growing out of focus until it didn’t seem like they’d been there at all.

“No please,” he choked out. He didn’t know who he was talking to. “Don’t take this, please, this isn’t what I want.”

No one answered. The mist became stronger.

“No,” he cried. “No, no, no, _no_. Please don’t take them. Please no. I still want this memory. I still want them. No please, give them back. Please.”

He couldn’t remember what they were. He couldn’t remember what he wanted back. But still he continued to beg.

“Please give them back, I still need them. No, no, no – please, _please I want them back_.”

The mist built to a wall of white – a tall one, a fine one – one with certainty and no room for mistakes. It took high in front of him, and when he turned around it was behind him as well. There was nowhere to go. The mist strengthened, turned white and unforgiving, before it faded once again, revealing where he had been standing before. He was on the rock where he had been, the ocean now still. To his left was Jackson, and on the rock to his right sat Jaebum, smiling pleasantly at him. Mark couldn’t see Jinyoung, but he could see a fog of black smoke in the ocean. He assumed Jinyoung would be there.

He didn’t realise he was crying until Jackson shook him.

“Mark?” He said. “Mark? Mark? What’s wrong, Mark?”

The tears wouldn’t stop falling. He tilted his head. His chest felt hollow, a strange longing for something he couldn’t remember anymore. He wanted to remember, however. He wanted to remember desperately. Mark raked his brain, demanding to know. What had he forgotten? Why wouldn’t it come back? He couldn’t stop the tears.

“Mark,” Jackson grabbed him. “Mark, answer me!”

Mark’s eyebrows furrowed. A tear dropped from his cheek down to the rock they were standing on. Jackson kept shaking him.

“I can’t,” Mark frowned. “I can’t remember.”

His chest had never felt so empty. It was like somehow his heart had shrunk, leaving too much air in his ribcage. A breeze flew past them and Mark struggled to keep his balance, bowled over by a memory he couldn’t remember. Jackson’s hand moved to grip his arm, and Mark’s eyes trailed up to his face. He didn’t remember. He forgot something, he knew, but he didn’t remember what. Jackson’s grip on his arm was like steel as he turned his attention to the witch.

“What did you take?” Jackson demanded. “What did you take from him?”

The witch smiled.

“Just a few memories,” Jaebum said, waving his hand, “Nothing too drastic.”

Jackson’s eyes narrowed.

“What kind of memories?” When Jaebum didn’t answer, his voice nose. “ _What kind of fucking memories_?”

The _lamia_ smiled in amusement.

“Mark,” Jaebum turned his attention to the boy. His voice adopted a softer tone, one even affectionate. Mark’s heart began to flutter. “Who looked after you when you were young?”

Mark frowned. He tried to dig deep in his memory, tried to follow strings back to his mind, trace the earliest memory he could – but everything seemed to come up blank. He could remember himself, of course, he could remember how he felt, how he reacted, what happened – but when he tried to recall people, he seemed at a loss. Figures were around him, he was certain – people were around him – but he couldn’t see them at all. His mind was covered in a fog that he couldn’t see out of, no matter how hard he tried to look. Mark tilted his head.

He remembered what he forgot.

“Give them back,” he said softly. Jackson’s mind had clicked as fast as Mark’s, if not faster. “Give them back, please.”

The witch merely smirked. Jackson’s guilt overtook him.

“Give them back,” he said angrily. The witch raised an eyebrow, amused. “Give Mark back his memories.”

Jaebum hummed.

“I have a wish,” Jackson said. “I wish for you to return Mark’s memories.”

Jaebum didn’t respond, but the characters on his arm seemed to dance. Jackson gripped his friend tighter.

“I want you to return Mark’s memories,” he repeated.

“Very well,” the witch said. “Maybe this time, it would be wise to hear the price first.”

Jackson scoffed. He had made up his mind long before. “Say it. It won’t change anything.”

Until then, Jaebum had betrayed little emotion, his lips only curving in intrigue. However now his face had morphed, eyes curving upwards as if he were laughing at Jackson, lips giving way for a cruel smile.

“For Mark to regain his memories,” he purred, “You must forget your memories with Jinyoung and Mark.”

Jackson froze, and Jaebum laughed.

“Forget the sea boy, forget your love,” he mused. “Forget your best friend. All for the return of a few measly memories.”

If Jackson was being honest, he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to give up his friendship with Mark, his love for Jinyoung. But it had all been his fault. All of it had been his fault. If he had never met Jinyoung, if he had never wanted to save him, Mark wouldn’t have lost his memories. Jackson couldn’t take it. He weighed up his options and realised that he couldn’t take it. He couldn’t live knowing that he had caused Mark to forget his family. He loved Jinyoung, and he loved Mark, both in different ways, but equally as passionately. But if he forgot them, he would never live with the pain of regret. The guilt ate Jackson like a monster, and if Jaebum was honest, the guilt gave his wish a heavier price.

“I’ll do it,” he said. Mark tugged on his hand.

“Don’t do this,” he warned, but his voice faltered, because a part of him wanted his memories back.

“I’ll do it,” Jackson repeated. “Grant me my wish.”

And the same thing happened to Jackson. The same mist surrounded him, the same sorts of memories flooded over him, each less distinct than the one before it. And the guilt ate at Jackson, it gnawed at him like a dog to a bone, and as the early memories passed, Jackson could only think that it was for the best. It was best that he made the sacrifice, because it was his desire which had led to this mess. It was his desire for love, his longing for affection that had placed them in the situation they were in now. Mark would’ve never had his heart broken by Jaebum if he’d never met Jaebum, and Jackson was certain that he’d never met Jaebum if Jackson hadn’t met Jinyoung. So he accepted the loss of their memories, accepted the loss of his memories with Jinyoung, and each time he wanted to claw back, he forced himself to remember that it was his fault he had to lose them.

He’d been reckless, and now he would pay the price.

Jackson watched his memories go the way one parted with a lover. His heart ached, his fingers watched to scramble, to catch them all and bottle them up because he was too soft for this, too attached to let two of the most important people in his life go. But then he was resigned with something bittersweet, something that made him pry his fingers away from his disappearing memories, one that understood that this was what he had to do, that this was the only thing he could do to avoid drowning in his own guilt.

He did it for Mark, but he also did it for himself as well. Because that was why people did things, Jaebum knew. They did things for themselves.

The grip holding the two friends together loosened, and Mark closed his eyes, trying to remember the feeling of Jackson’s hands gripping his own. Jackson’s hand slipped out of Mark’s until it felt like it had never been there, like the warmth had never been theirs. Mark’s eardrums were ringing, and his heart felt like it was being both broken and stitched back together at the same time.

The waves crashed. Jackson forgot. Mark remembered. And Jinyoung choked, because he could no longer breathe underwater.

Mark looked down at the ocean; saw the spluttering of the boy who had brought Jackson to this fate. And how desperately, how desperately he wanted to watch Jinyoung drown. Because Mark was not dumb; he was stunned and flustered and sometimes he forgot his words but he knew that Jackson had given him back something, and he had forgotten things for it. Mark’s eyes glanced away from the drowning boy to Jaebum, sitting perched and pleased, and he had to make a decision. Beg Jaebum to know why he had done what he did, or save Jinyoung.

He wanted to do the former. He wanted to do the former so, so badly. But Mark didn’t want his wish to go to waste. He glanced at his former boyfriend.

“I’ll return your friend to his home,” Jaebum smiled, “We wouldn’t want his sacrifice to go to waste now, would we?”

Mark didn’t answer. Instead he dived into the water with his clothes, swimming over to rescue the drowning boy. He knew it was what Jackson would’ve wanted.

 

 

One thing they did not understand was that the witch could not create happiness. A witch’s wish could only create happiness if the wisher already had happiness, but that created a paradox – if the wish-bearer already had happiness, why would they need to wish? Jaebum hummed at the irony, Jackson’s body following after him like a possessed doll. He could’ve simply whisked Jackson back, he understood, but where was the fun in that? The witch smiled to himself. He’d had a lot of fun.

The witch was not like the sea men. He knew how he had risen. He knew how he had been weaved, how his soul had been threaded into time, stark like the sun, an immortal life where he had not been given a heart like theirs, a heart made of arteries and blood and ventricles and a system so full of _life_. He was not granted immortality like the sea men; he had been born with it.

And how lovely it seemed to the humans, to be born with immortality. To be so beautiful to the humans, so seductive, so desirable – they wanted it, and they wanted him as well. Jaebum did not understand their thirst for company. _He_ had no company, and he was fine, wasn’t he? A neighbourhood cat looked up and inhaled his scent. Like a pet following its master home, she slid out of her house, graceful as she moved towards him. Jaebum waited patiently, looking down as the creature rubbed itself against his leg. She purred when he scratched her chin.

“Good girl,” he told her affectionately. His tone darkened. “Now kill your masters!”

The cat blinked and he laughed.

“Just kidding,” the witch smiled. “They’ll kill themselves anyway.”

Jaebum loved misery. He loved angst and he loved torturous loves. It was probably why he spent so much time playing with teenagers. They were so full of it. So full of love to give and no one to give it to, so full of desire for purpose yet no direction to take it. They were so full yet so empty – they were chemical reactions filled with energy to release, and like nature, Jaebum loved to watch it all burn. Reactions that increase the disorder of the universe are thermodynamically favoured, and Jaebum thought that humans were like that as well. He stood, watching as the cat began to follow him. The cat followed him all the way to Jackson’s house, stopping only when Jaebum passed through the door as it could not do the same. Instead it waited at the door until he had placed Jackson back in his bed and had walked out. The cat mewled.

He wasn’t sure why cats loved him so much. It was perhaps one of the reasons why they always called him a witch. But he didn’t know much more. Perhaps they also enjoyed chaos. Perhaps they saw a competent companion, one that didn’t need to be hunted and cared for. The cat followed him down the road, caught in what seemed like a trance. He walked to a nearby bridge, leaning his elbows on the rail. Down below he could see cars stuck in mild traffic, and on the footpath near a bakery, he saw Mark and Jinyoung. Mark had Jinyoung’s arm around his shoulders, and appeared to be walking him home.

Home, Jaebum smiled. There was no real home for the two anymore.

The way Jaebum saw it, making a wish was like breaking a mirror. A wish was a permanent alteration, one that could not be fully reversed no matter how hard the wish-bearer tried. People would make wishes, and they would face consequences – usually nasty ones, because Jaebum liked a little chaos – and they would try desperately to overcome them, realise half-way through that what they wished for wasn’t what they _actually_ wanted, and by then it was too late. The deed had been done, and regardless of their will and their heart, things would never be as they once were.

Even a wish like Jackson’s, a wish to reverse the consequences of Mark’s wish, would not restore Mark to who he once was. Jackson had asked for the return of Mark’s memories, but memories were not enough to make up a relationship. Perhaps Jaebum was just being unfair, but when he took Mark’s memories of his parents, his feelings towards them had been taken quite sequentially as a result. Mark had lost both his memories and his relationship, but Jackson had only wished for Mark’s memories to return, and memories were not enough to create a relationship. His memories returned as per his wish, but Mark did not feel for them as he once had. He remembered, of course, remembered how they were and how he was and all the times they’d been together, but he no longer remembered being _there_. His memories now were less of a moment and more a story, a fact he’d been told to remember, despite the fact that he hadn’t been there. His memories were a history lesson he could recite but not recall.

Mark trudged through the street, supporting both Jinyoung’s weight and his own, and he huffed, hurling the two down onto a bench as he tried to regain his breath. He tried to remember what had happened, repeated the events to try to remind himself that they had been real. His boyfriend had been a witch. Jinyoung was now human. Jackson didn’t remember them. And half-way he’d both lost and gained the memories of his parents, and somehow, despite this fact, he felt empty. Incredibly empty, overwhelmingly empty, like someone had snatched children from his arms. He shook his head, turning to look at the boy beside him.

Jinyoung had been beautiful as a merman, but as a human his beauty was more subdued. Less ethereal, more worldly, pretty features like a young waiter that would make little girls shy. His iris were lighter, more brown than black, his hair had lost its blue gleam and now looked raven under the light. His skin was pale but no longer white like the moon, tinted healthily by blood coursing through his veins. Mark sighed. Jackson had paid a price, and Mark didn’t want his reward. The human boy meant nothing to him. He had made Mark lose his best friend after all.

But he had to save him. He had to look after him. Mark didn’t know what else he was meant to do. Jackson, no matter how irrational, couldn’t have acted in vain, and for that, he had given Mark purpose. Purpose, direction – something that he had been searching for all this time. A rock, a stabiliser, something that made him act, something that he could work towards, something to do. If he had been floating in the sea, Mark was now stationed at a port – an ugly one, a rueful one – but a port nevertheless, and he would take this, take this unnatural and strange purpose, and it would work, he thought. He would work for this purpose. To act as Jackson would’ve, to bring meaning to what his friend wanted.

There was a path to follow, and regretfully Mark knew that this is what he wanted all along. This is what he thought he found in Jaebum, tried to seek in his wish – and as a building displayed the date and time – the fifteenth of February, twenty-thirteen, five past seven – Mark sighed.

This is where he would go.

 

 

The rain had started up again. From their apartment, it wasn’t that big of a deal, but Jinyoung kept clicking his tongue, his eyes shifting from Jackson’s face to the window as his eyebrows furrowed in concern. Jackson thought that he was thinking about Mark. For a few moments, they didn’t speak – the rain the only sound that could be heard in Jinyoung and Mark’s apartment. Jackson simply stared at his cup, trying to repeat what he knew.

He had once known Jinyoung. He had once known Mark. Once, they had met Jinyoung and Jaebum. Mark had wished for Jinyoung’s freedom on behalf of Jackson. Jackson had wished for Mark’s memories out of guilt. He had forgotten them as payment. Jaebum was a witch. These thoughts swam around his head like fish, dipping briefly into his brain but never far enough to create an impression. He didn’t remember what it was like to be friends with Mark, he could only be told. He didn’t remember how it felt to be in love with Jinyoung, he only knew that he had.

And perhaps this is how Mark felt about his parents. A sense of emptiness and detachment, but knowledge nevertheless. He heard the rain and thought of the ocean and the strange longing that always accompanied him to the sea. He understood it now, but he couldn’t fit the two together. The emptiness and Jinyoung went hand in hand, but Jackson didn’t know if they fit like puzzle pieces. He didn’t even know if they were both puzzle pieces at all. Maybe his emptiness was a cup and Jinyoung’s presence was the puzzle – two parts of different wholes. Jinyoung chewed on his lip.

“It’s alright if you hate me,” he said. “I can see why you would. I took your best friend from you, and I ruined him as well.”

He looked away.

“I won’t mind if you hate me.”

Jackson shook his head.

“I don’t hate you,” he said. He smiled, albeit sadly. “I don’t remember any of this, so it’s alright. I don’t really feel anything.”

Jinyoung’s face didn’t betray any emotion, but Jackson knew what he thought anyway.

“Not like that!” He said quickly. His face flushed. “I mean…I don’t know, I just don’t remember what I lost, so I can’t really mourn.”

Jinyoung smiled.

“Yeah,” he looked out the window. The storm was starting once again, dark clouds obstructing their view. “Yeah. You couldn’t imagine my surprise when I saw you in my lecture. Time has a funny way of bringing people back.”

Jackson didn’t understand, but he nodded.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Life is funny like that.”

They were silent again.

“Do you think Mark will be okay?” Jackson said. He looked up. Best friend or not, Jackson didn’t want anyone to die. “With the witch, I mean. He said something before, right? That the witch could kill you. That he was killed before.”

Jinyoung smiled humourlessly.

“Mark didn’t die,” Jinyoung said. “His life died and his relationships died, but he didn’t die.” He paused when lightning struck, a rumble of thunder following after it. “The _lamia_ is very powerful, and very angry. He didn’t like being locked up here, and I doubt he’ll be very pleased to return. But he won’t kill Mark.”

Nature was not pleased. The downpour strengthened.

“Our _lamia_ is too fond of him,” Jinyoung said, and it sounded kind of ironic to own a witch. “The witch is looking for a…”

He struggled to find the word.

“A companion?” Jackson suggested.

The former chuckled darkly.

“A pet,” Jinyoung corrected.

Jackson nodded. “That makes sense. He must be lonely, wandering alone for so long.”

Jinyoung shook his head.

“The _Lamia_ is not human,” he said sternly. “They do not feel loneliness, and they do not seek people. What the witch feels does not make sense, because the witch is not human. You love to humanise everything, but not everything is human.”

It sounded like a broader statement than was meant for Jackson. He nodded. Instead, he thought back to the glass cage.

“How did Mark trap the witch?” Jackson asked.

Jinyoung smiled.

 

 

Mark had graduated quietly, and had under his new-found obligation, rented an apartment with Jinyoung near their soon-to-be university. It was in a quiet neighbourhood that they had managed to afford primarily due to Jinyoung’s full-time job. With no school to go in the prior months, he had made himself useful by finding a variety of jobs. At night, he slept in Mark’s room and ate Mark’s food. His parents didn’t seem to mind, though to be fair, on most nights, they didn’t know. They just thought Jinyoung was Mark’s best friend. None of them seemed to remember Jackson.

With no official documentation of his identity, Jinyoung was in a bit of a muddle. Jaebum had transformed Jinyoung into a human boy, but he had failed to give them any help in setting up his new life. To be fair, they hadn’t asked. Jinyoung had no magic – he couldn’t whisk himself a new identity, and the Mer people were not very social creatures – he didn’t have any sea children to help him. Instead, they were left in a bit of a rut. Mark looked to regular, human solutions, and after two months, they had bought some forged documents that Jinyoung had paid an ugly amount to obtain.

But Mark’s direction hadn’t stopped there. Perhaps he had taken it too far, perhaps he was lonely, perhaps he was still angry – but helping Jinyoung was not enough. Mark was determined to make Jackson’s sacrifice meaningful, determined to fulfil everything he wanted to, and with that came a different goal entirely. One that was less altruistic, less selfless, less possible;

 _Kill the witch_.

Kill the witch – when he said it, it sounded crazy, like a knight’s mission in a fairy-tale, or the final chapter to a child’s fantasy – but to Mark, it was all too real of a desire. And truthfully, it was easier said than done. Mark had two problems. One was that he needed to find the witch, and after their meeting in February, he hadn’t seen him since. Jaebum, Jinyoung told him, followed misery and sea children, and right now Mark didn’t have enough of either. He thought he could find the witch. Jinyoung said he still remembered how to summon him.

Mark’s second problem was harder. Finding the witch was feasible, but killing him was harder. How did one kill a witch? A witch was not human. A witch was not mortal, a witch did not have a heart, a witch would not be stabbed and diet. Mark was in a bit of a predicament. His goal was clear but his plan was as jumbled as they got.

“How would I go about killing Jaebum?” He asked Jinyoung one day when they were moving into their new shared apartment. Jinyoung was holding a box of his clothes.

Jinyoung raised an eyebrow. If he was sceptical, he didn’t question it.

“That would imply that the witch was alive.” He replied. “You can’t kill what never lived.”

“Oh.” Mark looked down, frowning. He took the box out of Jinyoung’s hands and moved it to his room.

Jinyoung moved two boxes from the hallway back into their apartment before he shut the door. Those was the last of their things – now all that was left was unpacking. He made a face at a particularly large box in the middle of their living room. From the label on the box, it looked like the couch they’d ordered.

“What about trapping him?” Mark asked. In the short time Jinyoung had known him; he noticed that Mark never called Jaebum a witch. He always seemed to call him by his name. “How would I go about doing that?”

Jinyoung looked thoughtful.

“Trapping the witch?” He hummed. “That is possible. You’d need a cage to trap him in though, one that could hold non-human entities. But it’s entirely possible.”

He sighed, looking down at their unassembled couch.

“If you’re planning to trap the _lamia_ ,” he said, “I don’t want to know about it. He is not stupid, the _lamia_ will know if you are plotting. You must be spontaneous if you want to trap him. Only the very minimum should be planned.”

Mark nodded. He guessed that he couldn’t expect much from Jinyoung. Jinyoung wasn’t his friend after all. The boy who had once been Mer looked at him pitifully.

“That being said,” Jinyoung said. “I do have a wish to make, I suppose, and when you would like to say hello to that ex-boyfriend of yours, I would be more than happy to find him.”

Mark met Jinyoung’s eyes evenly, and realised that this was his opening. Jinyoung was offering him an opening for whatever he chose to do. He could find the witch, Mark realised, and Mark would have to do the rest. Jinyoung was no longer powerful, but he still remembered how to find the creatures from lore. This was all Jinyoung could do. And what more was Mark expecting?

He was on his own for this. He had been since Jackson left. And perhaps, he had been even before that.

 

 

Mark drove a lot to the beach, even when Jackson was gone. He supposed he had grown fond of the breeze, the wind and the slow curves, window down and hand out as he cruised through the residential slopes, heart filled with some sadness that he would never satisfy. Sometimes he would park his car, get out and move towards the rocks where he and Jackson had first met Jinyoung, watching the waters for another merman, one who could help Mark capture the witch. But no matter how long he waited, no one ever came. It was as if they all knew that Mark was not prey, they all looked at him and knew he would not be eaten, not by them. He waited at the rocks and made waves with his hand, but nothing happened.

No more Mer appeared in his life.

He still needed a way to trap Jaebum, and in the absence of Mer, he was running out of ideas. Trapping a witch wasn’t a menial task – he couldn’t google the answer, or buy a cage from the shops – people didn’t sell witch-trapping equipment in their everyday lives. But the world was a strange place, and Mark had grown up with the internet so he knew that there was a market for everything. Even creatures out of lore. He bought a number of questionable witch cages online and spent most of his holidays wandering around strange shops with dreamcatchers and blessed stones, asking the shop owners questions about witches and sea children. Sometimes they looked at him strangely, sometimes they spoke nonsense, and occasionally they hissed and said,

“You’re looking for the _lamia_? No one looks for the _lamia_ , you let the _lamia_ play his games, and then you hope he leaves you.”

A particularly strange woman told him this when Mark drove two hours out of the city to find a small shack holding wishbones and birth stone necklaces. She was dressed in velvet purple, folds of skin accumulating on her face, neck and arms. She wore big-stoned jewellery that only looked good on women above fifty, and her dress pooled at the floor. Across the strange wooden counter, she pushed herself forward, meeting Mark’s dull eyes.

“A young boy like you shouldn’t be looking for something like that,” she told him. “You don’t know what you’re looking for.”

By now, Mark was used to this. He shook his head.

“I met him, once.”

“Once is more than enough,” the woman hissed. “Why would you want to see him again?”

Mark shrugged. He found it hard to explain vengeance to the strange-looking lady.

“If you want to trap the _lamia_ , you must first find him,” she said.

“I have a method of finding him.”

She looked unconvinced. “And I can provide you with a cage, but I promise you that you will struggle more to find the witch than you will to trap him.”

She ended up selling him a small lock, a brass one with constellations and the moon engraved onto its surface. It was a cage, she explained, it was a cage hidden within a lock, created by a chemist who had once fallen in love with a mermaid, but the mermaid wouldn’t love her back. Filled with both rage and intrigue, she created something straight for lore and science, a strange combination of whispered tales and proven laws, strong glass, impenetrable, yet sung into a small space. An art she had sold along with her book when she was finished tricking the mermaid into revealing her craft, finally understanding that the love she desired would not be obtained with the cage. It cost him more than he thought it should, cost him a good hundred along with the watch Jaebum had gotten him on their one-month anniversary, but Mark didn’t think much about the money.

He bought seven more cages from different but equally strange shop-keepers to be safe, and once he had accumulated enough strange objects – all cages, he was told – he thought he was ready for Jinyoung to summon the witch.

It happened as simply as it could have. There were two weeks left until their first year of university started and Jinyoung was on the couch, frowning at some strange classic movie he didn’t quite understand. Mark had come in, clutching the lock with his hoodie pockets filled with other cages, and he’d looked up and said,

“I’d like to meet Jaebum.”

And again, Jinyoung thought, again with this ‘Jaebum’. Nevertheless, he nodded wordlessly, reaching over the couch to switch the television off. They went into Mark’s room, pulled the curtains away and opened the window. Jinyoung closed his eyes, raking through his memories of his previous life, trying to remember the tune that drew the _lamia_ in, all while Mark stayed at the door, fingers anxiously running over the lock’s engravings. He heard Jinyoung mumble, softly at first, before his voice gradually rose into a song, one that grew more confident as he continued to sing, sounding more and more like the tune of a merman than a boy. The song rose and so did his tone and for a second, Mark became worried. What if the cages didn’t work? Would Jaebum kill them? Would he be angry? Would he laugh? Would he even show up?

But Mark didn’t have to fear, because Jinyoung’s voice ceased as a figure floated in through the window. Black smoke materialised into a boy, the same boy Mark had met at the beach all those months ago. Ink still danced on his arm, piercings still lined his ears and it looked as if Jaebum hadn’t aged a moment in the time they’d been apart.

Perhaps he didn’t. He was not human, after all.

The witch smiled kindly. He gave them both patronising looks.

“My favourite human boys,” he greeted. “You still remember your song.”

Jinyoung nodded. Jaebum hummed.

“I see language is not easily forgotten.” His gaze moved then to Mark. “And I see you’re still not quite over your loss.”

Mark clutched the lock tighter. He met Jaebum’s eyes, hard like steel. The witch laughed.

“I’ve been called,” he said, “Surely one of you has a wish?”

“I do,” Jinyoung said. His glance moved to Mark, if only for a split second, and Mark was meant to think fast, or not at all. He chose the latter. In a sprint, he threw the lock at the witch, aim sharp as the witch caught his toy.

Mark’s hand instinctively reached for his pocket, ready to try another cage. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, and he realised that he would not let this moment go to waste.

Jaebum looked down at the lock, then up at Mark. He dropped it suddenly, and Mark was ready to hurl another strange object – this time a dart – at the _lamia_. Jaebum hissed.

“Where did you get this?” His voice was uncharacteristically hoarse, a burst of emotion that Mark wasn’t expecting. Jinyoung stepped back and the two boys watched in shock as outside of the lock began to materialise glass.

This wasn’t like the glass that made their coffee table, or the glass beakers that Mark used in high school. This was strange glass, a frosty pink tint against the strange silicon structure. The glass rose like it had a mind of its own, expanding until it took up the whole of the wall, creating a separator parallel to Mark’s wall. From there the glass expanded up, creating a second roof over the witch, one that seemed just as strange as the witch itself. From the lock, the glass began to grow, and to Mark’s surprise, Jaebum was powerless against it. He could do nothing but watch as he was encaged, trapped in glass by the boy he had trapped himself. He had trapped Mark in misery, and in return Mark had trapped him in his room. The lock remained perched against the glass until it had formed a rectangular prism – one the perfect size to trap a witch. The ends of the glass welded and closed, and as it did so, the lock popped off.

Mark stared at it in horror, half-expecting the barrier to break now that the lock had disappeared. But the glass cage was the same, if not stronger, than it had been before. Once he was certain that Jaebum was trapped, he walked over to pick up the lock.

“What have you done?” Jaebum looked back and forth between Jinyoung and Mark, neither revealing anything. Jinyoung, if anything, looked impressed, eyes following Mark as he pocketed the lock.

The witch glared at Jinyoung.

“Let me out,” he demanded. His voice turned to a growl. “ _Release me_.”

Jinyoung remained impassive. He stared evenly at the witch. Jaebum scared neither of them behind the glass. He changed his tactic, eyes flitting to Mark almost desperately.

“Let me out,” he said, softer this time. “Mark, baby, please – let me out baby. Let me out. I’ll do whatever you want baby. We can go back to how we were. I’ll love you. Please, let me out babe.”

Mark blinked. He stared back at the witch, unconvinced.

“Thanks Jinyoung,” he said, colder than Jaebum remembered. Jinyoung nodded. The two began to move out of Mark’s room.

As he was about to leave, Mark couldn’t help but stare back at the witch he once knew. He looked at his eyes, remembered the way his mouth seemed to slot so easily into Mark’s. His eyes softened and Jaebum saw this quickly.

“Baby _please_ ,” he purred. It sounded so desperate, so hopeful from the younger. But Mark forced himself to remember that he didn’t know Jaebum, didn’t know him really, and everything at this point would be a lie.

“You took Jackson away from me,” Mark said, soft and angry to a point where his voice cracked, wavering under the gaze of his former lover. “You took my parents from me. And now I will take your freedom.”

Jaebum stared wordlessly at him, and Mark cracked a thin smile.

“All’s fair in love and war,” he said humourlessly.

“Mark,” Jaebum began.

But Mark had already shut the door.

 

 

Mark tucked the cards into his pocket. He knew where they were going now. They would go to the beach. There was nowhere else to go. If Jaebum wanted to be found, he would return to where they first properly met – where Jaebum was nothing more than who he was, no boyfriend, no lies, only the monster he remembered. As the waves came into view, Mark’s heartbeat quickened. He was scared, he realised. He was scared of Jaebum. Because for all these months he had been the one in control, he was the one who had trapped Jaebum, who had Jaebum under his mercy. Today, it was different.

Today, they were as they had been on the fifteenth of February, confused and uncertain, playing with magic they didn’t quite understand. Mark remembered the chills of the first time they’d met, and the hole that had grown in his body. He had not been the same boy he’d woken up as that day. He had not been the same after that day. The boy who woke up on the fifteenth of February had parents, remembered his parents, and loved his parents. He had not felt that way since.

He could not love them anymore, he had realised in fear on that day. He no longer knew how to love his parents.

And how strange that was, because they had done nothing wrong. They had done nothing but love him, they had done absolutely nothing wrong – yet he could not remember how to love them. It was strange, because in their minds they were still a family, they were still as they had been before, but Mark was back at square one, trying to explore a relationship that had already been fleshed out. Because people are different at different stages in their relationships. He was still treading water near the steps of the pool and his family were all diving at the deep end, and the scariest part was that Mark didn’t know how deep the water was, and no one would come back to help him swim to the deep end, because to them, he was already there.

The smell of salt flooded into his nose, the sound of waves crashing growing louder and louder as he got closer towards the obsidian rocks where they’d met. As he walked down the abandoned footpath, he remembered the beach as it had been when he first met Jaebum. Not the witch, just the boy looking for an address in the ocean. He remembered the smiling couples, the squealing children – he remembered watching boys race to the skate park, friends looking for a place to barbeque. He remembered the warm grass, the cool breeze, the dripping ice-cream on his hand and the fascination that came with meeting someone like Jaebum, someone trying to fill the spaces in Mark’s heart. Now, with the approaching dark clouds and previous storm, the beach was empty.

Jaebum would have to make this quick, Mark thought. The storm was returning, and Mark was going to get sick. If he wanted to destroy Mark, he would have to make it quick.

A magnitude of waves were crashing against the rocks, sounding like thunder themselves, rough and unforgiving against the land. Perched on the tallest rock – balanced only by the tips of his toes – was Jaebum. Mark blinked. People in folklore tended to dress strangely – the shopkeeper two hours away had worn velvet like a queen, other cashiers wore bohemian dresses or strange black clothes, even Jinyoung liked to wear blues and purples, anything that reminded him of the sea – but Jaebum was dressed as any person Mark’s age would. He wore ripped jeans and a loose graphic t-shirt, a windbreaker around his shoulders.

He smiled when he saw Mark, and Mark winced as his sneakered feet hit the sand. He would be cleaning the sand out of his shoes for the next week, if he didn’t come down with a cold.

“I got your message,” Mark told him, climbing on the nearest rock. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the cards that he had found, frowning when Jaebum smiled. “I’m here now, what do you want?”

The witch tilted his head. It started to rain, light droplets at first. Mark looked up.

“If you want to kill me,” he said. “You better do it now. The storm might steal your thunder.”

Jaebum laughed. Mark smirked, despite himself. His small frame shivered under the cold. In his burst of adrenaline, he hadn’t brought a thicker coat.

“I don’t want to kill you,” Jaebum said. He smiled. “Just as you never wanted to kill me.”

Mark, despite himself, exhaled a sigh of relief. He could say whatever he wanted about death and hope – he really didn’t want to die right now.

“I am,” the witch purred, “Very upset with you, however.”

He held up the lock that has once caged him. Mark recognised the star engravings bright against the brassy lock.

“Really? You caged me in a prison made for the Mer?” He glared distastefully at the lock, turning back to Mark. He moved towards the rock Mark had stepped on, movements graceful despite the rain. “I find that a little degrading. Imagine if I trapped you in an animal cage.”

Jaebum moved to run his fingers down Mark’s chin, tilting it towards him.

“Maybe I should,” he mused. “You’ve been acting feral recently. I should put you in your place.”

Mark scowled.

“I am not the one causing trouble,” he replied. “There was a stabbing near my apartment. Do you happen to have anything to do with that?”

The witch smiled, and Mark scoffed.

“I thought so.”

“I had to make up for lost time,” Jaebum explained. Naturally, as if it all made perfect sense. “You locked me up. You can’t honestly expect me to just sit around after I’m finally released.”

“You were not _released_ ,” Mark hissed. “You tricked him into letting you escape.”

Jaebum laughed. “You didn’t really believe that you could just trap me forever, did you?”

“You didn’t really think you could just wreck my life and continue on your way, did you?” Mark mocked.

The witch snickered.

“I gave you _purpose_ ,” he snarled. His grip on Mark’s chin tightened as he pulled Mark towards him. The boy stumbled as Jaebum laughed. He faltered. Jaebum knew.

The witch knew.

“You wanted purpose,” Jaebum said, “And I gave you exactly that. What did I do wrong? You didn’t have to make a wish. You didn’t have to play the selfless best friend, wishing on behalf of your pathetic human friend. I didn’t force you to do _anything_. If anything, I forced you out of that terrible ditch of apathy you were in. I stopped you from wasting your time. You should be _thanking_ me.”

“You took my _family_ ,” Mark hissed. “You took Jackson and you took my family and you left me alone.”

Mark heaved a sharp intake of air, Jaebum looking at him expectantly.

“You betrayed me,” Mark growled. “You made me love you, and then you left me. And you didn’t just leave me; you stripped everything away from me. You took my best friend and you took my family and you took yourself and you _just left_. And don’t fool me telling me that you do that to everyone, because I know what happens. I listen. They don’t remember you. You let the sea children eat the humans and then you clear everyone’s memory of them. You pretend they don’t exist. And if they don’t exist, neither do you. But I remember you. And you don’t love me.”

The witch blinked. The rain got heavier, and Mark wanted to scream.

“What do you want now?” He said, softly this time, because he didn’t like yelling. “You took everything last time, what do you want now?”

Jaebum tilted his head.

“I wanted to cage you,” he confessed. “I wanted to cage you like an animal, and bring you around so I never lost you. But this will do.”

The rain was getting heavier. In the distance, Mark could hear thunder.

“One more deal,” Jaebum suggested. “No magic, just a little exchange. You stay with me, for as long as you are alive, and in return, I’ll love you.”

Mark frowned.

“What?”

The witch shrugged. “I grant wishes. You wish for me to love you,” Jaebum smiled, a mixture of amusement and sincerity making Mark’s heart do funny things. He shouldn’t feel like this, he thought, but he did. “I can do that. But the price is that you have to stay with me.”

Mark was a mixture of bewilderment and a strange sort of warmth, one that, at least temporarily, filled the gaps in his heart.

“You’re a fascinating little human,” the witch said, brushing hair out of Mark’s face. “Your flaws become your strengths. And you’re a terribly stubborn human being.”

Jaebum’s hands moved from his face to Mark’s waist.

“I could use a companion,” he hummed.

It probably wasn’t a good idea, but Mark fell into his embrace.

 

 

Jackson was staring anxiously at the apartment door, Jinyoung’s eyes trained on their balcony as he observed the storm. If Mark was not home soon, Jinyoung doubted that he would come home. In his human form, he had grown quite fond of Mark. Mark was an easy person to grow fond of. He was quiet and he was kind and he had an odd affinity for the _lamia_ that had ruined his life. He was fascinating, just as all humans were.

The two boys were sitting on the side of the couch closest to the heater, sharing a blanket to keep themselves warm. The storm brought with it an unforgiving cold, one that threatened to shatter their bones and grind their teeth. Somewhere in-between their stories, Jackson’s arm had entwined in Jinyoung’s.

“There’s one more thing I still don’t understand,” Jackson said. Jinyoung looked over, curious. “Did you ever figure out how you were made?”

Slowly, Jinyoung’s face morphed into a smile. He turned to stare up at the ceiling.

“Yes,” he said.

It had happened in his changing, black smoke engulfing his form. The changes had been physical at first – swapping his tail for legs, his gills for lungs – and he had thought that this was pointless, bloody pointless, but then his heart started to change. In the empty cavity of his chest grew a heart, one that beat and thumped and pumped blood around the body and kept his whole system alive. And instead of feeling strange and foreign, the heart started to feel familiar. As if he’d had one before. But he couldn’t, right? That would imply that at one point, he was mortal.

The smoke rose to his head, and slowly, the mist in his mind cleared and he remembered.

He remembered where he had come from. He remembered the heart that now grew in him used to be his. He remembered the sound of it beating, the soft whisper of its desires, he remembered how it had felt within him, and he remembered a time when he did not consume hearts, he only held one.

They all had, once.

Once the sea children had been human. Once they had had two legs instead of fins and had roamed the earth, had lived like mortals on the ground. Once they had been human, and always had they had lovely voices.

He remembered that he had been human once. That once, very long ago, he had been human and they had been beautiful singers, lovely children near the sea. Once they had been greedy, desperate for things they shouldn’t want. Once they had been pushed too far. Once they thought they were not made for their world. And once, the witch had come to them providing a solution.

“Your world does not understand you,” the _lamia_ said. “It does not appreciate you for your talents. You will be unhappy if you continue your lives here. I can give you another life.”

He remembered the whispers that went around their group, the ones about how beautiful they could be, how they could live as immortals, as _gods_. Their voices were so beautiful – they had to be preserved beyond their lifetimes, heard by all. He had never, the _lamia_ said, heard a voice as beautiful as theirs.

“You’re such pretty gems,” he had purred.

They had been so young then. No one older than eighteen. Children with voices like angels, and a witch who could immortalise them. Their voices were so beautiful, their hearts were so sad, he remembered how a young girl had broken his heart and he had thought,

What was the purpose of a heart?

Did we need a heart? Did we need all these emotions? All these feelings, cruel like thorns, what was the point of them? They were so easily strung, so easily sold. Feelings were only a hindrance, feelings only held us back. They caged us in, made us monsters, they created people we didn’t know we were. Feelings were such fragile things. They controlled us, strung us along like puppets. Why be a slave to your feelings? The witch promised that he could get rid of this too.

The sea children, as humans, could not see a reason to disagree.

Their world didn’t understand them. Their voices were so beautiful they sounded more like angels then humans, and they were treated as such. Beautiful dolls – something to be seen but not heard, a toy that could be placed on the shelf when they lacked desire. They were all singers, and all somehow sad.

They had agreed all too easily, immortalised themselves at the small price of their hearts and souls. They could not remember their humanity, the witch said, this would destroy them, bring their heart back to life. And why did they need a heart? The witch did not have a heart, and the witch was never sad. They didn’t want to be sad anymore. They didn’t want to feel anymore. They had felt too much, and now they wanted to feel nothing at all. They lost their lungs and gained gills, their legs turned to tails and their hearts shrunk, shrunk smaller and smaller until they were lighter than an electron, invisible and almost non-existent, deflated.

And to their joy, they realised, they no longer felt. They could no longer cry, no longer frown, they could not be destroyed or hurt by others anymore. And their voices were still beautiful.

He had been human once. Jinyoung, before he went to the sea, he had been human.

Over time they forgot their origins. They knew once that they had been human, once they knew they had sacrificed their humanity, but they had once been human. But then this was forgotten as well. With age and time a mist surrounded their origins, time an eraser in their minds. Only humans remembered things like that, origins, held affections – sea children did not need these feelings. As their time passed they forgot who they were.

All the sea children, they had once been human.

They had always eaten humans. Always drawn them in with their gaze and their voices, forced them underwater and drowned them, drowned them quickly and ate their hearts. But they could never remember why they were so drawn to the humans. Why they enjoyed playing with the humans so much. The fact eluded them and they never wondered, never really, because curiosity was a human thing. But once, they had been human. And like everything, they were drawn to the truths they did not know.

They loved eating humans, loved being intrigued by humans because once they had been human.

“All the Mer,” Jinyoung explained, “Were once human.”

Jackson didn’t know what to say. He stared up at the boy, watching the way he seemed so undisturbed. The fact must’ve settled with him after all the years. He wondered what it was like, to learn of a past you couldn’t remember. But then he supposed that he already knew.

“I wouldn’t have known,” Jinyoung said. “I wouldn’t have known if it wasn’t for you. If you hadn’t asked me back then, and if I hadn’t wondered about it now. I know you don’t remember, but it was really you who I have to thank.”

Jackson nodded dumbly. Jinyoung smiled.

“Thank you,” he murmured, soft like the wind. His voice sounded like chimes, and Jackson understood why he had once been from the sea.

“I loved you once,” it was Jackson who had spoken. Softly, tentatively, as if he didn’t know what to say, “Didn’t I?”

Jinyoung raised his eyebrows.

“I suppose,” he said.

Jackson looked apologetic. “I don’t remember,” he confessed.

“I know.”

Jinyoung looked away, but Jackson wasn’t done. “But, I want to remember. Or if not remember, try this again,” he said. He looked up at Jinyoung. “Did you love me?”

“Depends,” Jinyoung replied. “Then, or now?”

“Both.”

“We couldn’t love in the sea,” he said. “We weren’t human. So I didn’t love you then. But when you and Mark made me human, I loved you a lot.”

He laughed.

“Your love for me was so pure,” Jinyoung said. “And I couldn’t appreciate it. I’m sorry.”

Jackson smiled.

“I don’t remember, so it’s fine,” he looked down, playing with the hem of his shirt. “But let’s try again now?”

Jinyoung didn’t have time to answer, for the sound of the door unlocking startled the two. Jackson jumped up, standing straight as he watched the door open. Jinyoung didn’t move from the couch, turning his head to see Mark on the witch’s back, his hair soaked and clothes drenched. The witch was also wet, but appeared less bothered by their situation. Jinyoung raised an eyebrow.

“Witch,” he greeted. “Mark.”

Jaebum nodded. “Jinyoung, like your new body?”

“I do,” he replied. “Do you like your new master?”

“As much as you like loving boys who don’t remember you,” the witch said evenly. Mark blinked.

“I’m tired,” he mumbled, “Let’s go nap.”

To Jackson’s surprise, Jaebum nodded, leading the two back into their room. Mark hung off the witch like a koala, nuzzling into his back. He couldn’t quite understand it, how Mark had gone from angry to loving in a matter of hours. The boy who left the house, determined to catch the witch, was not the boy who had returned. He looked to Jinyoung curiously.

“I told you,” Jinyoung said simply. “The witch wanted a pet.”

Jackson frowned. Looked back and forth between Jinyoung and the door, trying to figure out how they had gone from Point A to Point B. It was like maths, pure, continuous, complex maths. And Jackson had always been terrible at maths. He shook his head.

“To answer your question,” Jinyoung said, breaking him away from his thoughts, “I would.”

Jackson looked at him questioningly. His heart was starting to flutter.

“I would,” he said. “I would like to try this again.”

 

 

When Jackson had fallen asleep in his bed, Jinyoung stepped out slowly, feet light against the carpet floor. Outside the rain had reduced to a drizzle – the perfect weather for napping, Mark always said. Jinyoung moved towards his roommate’s door.

The glass cage had since vanished, and instead Jinyoung was greeted to the sight of Mark napping, curled in a ball with Jaebum surrounding him, caging him like a doll. His hair was dry and his clothes looked clean, and for once, Mark looked calm. His hands clutched the witch’s shirt, and their legs began to tangle as he searched for a more comfortable position. Jinyoung chuckled, and the witch looked up.

“Do you have any more business here?” Jaebum asked. His arms snaked around the boy, bringing Mark closer towards him. “You have your lover, you found your origins – you’re done looking after him. You can go now.”

Jinyoung shook his head.

“I pay for more than half this apartment,” he said. “Talk to me when you pay the bills.”

The witch snorted. Mark stirred and immediately Jaebum’s hands moved to play with his hair, attempting to lure him back to sleep.

Jinyoung grinned, eyeing his roommate.

“He won’t let you kick me out.”

The witch hissed. “I don’t need his permission.”

Jinyoung liked messing with him, so he said, “Your master would not be pleased if he heard you talking like that.”

The witch was growled, but he didn’t reply. His dark eyes seemed so much more harmless in Mark’s presence – as if his companion had softened the witch’s edges.  Jinyoung was overcome with a sense of loss. He sighed.

“You made us all monsters,” he said softly. Jaebum hummed.

“I didn’t make you monsters,” he said, “You were monsters on your own. I only gave you an outlet.”

“We ate our parents,” Jinyoung said. “We ate our parents, our siblings, our grandchildren, our nieces and nephews. You let us do all of that.”

“I did,” the witch agreed.

“He will die before you do,” Jinyoung said, “And then once again, you will be alone.”

And he left the witch to play with his companion. Jaebum’s eyebrows furrowed, if only briefly, before he resumed his usual mild expression. The witch did not need company, he did not desire comfort and solace the way the humans did. But here he had made a deal with a human boy, and to no benefit of his own. The witch had been around before humanity had risen. He had been there before life had rose from the primordial soup of the ocean. And each time humanity had never ceased to intrigue him. They had individual thought, they had feelings, they had desires, and they acted upon them in such fascinating, such strange and self-destructive ways. He loved every moment of it. The witch had been bored before humanity came. The witch had been watching life rise and fall, and with no influence of his because they did not have wishes the way humanity did.

Mark was just another intriguing thing. Something that amused the witch to no end. From the moment he had made his wish to the way he curled into Jaebum, Mark had never ceased to amuse the witch. He could not understand how someone so lonely, so confused, so lost in his own life could create something so destructive. It was Mark’s lack of direction that had made Jinyoung human, that had destroyed Jackson’s memories, and eventually Mark himself. But it was the same lack of direction that made his purpose so desperate. It was his fear of being lost again, it was his fear of being nothing that had made him trap Jaebum, it was this fear of being directionless that had made his purpose to destroy Jaebum.

And Jaebum loved it. Because secretly, despite anything Mark thought, Mark still loved Jaebum.

Mark loved Jaebum regardless of his form. He loved Jaebum as his boyfriend as much as who he was outside of it. And Jaebum couldn’t understand Mark’s love as anything but a love for purpose. In the end, everything about Mark had been a search for purpose.

He had loved Jaebum because Jaebum had given him purpose. He had made Jinyoung human to find purpose. He trapped Jaebum to create a purpose. He did everything for purpose, everything for direction, and Jaebum found it both amusing and pathetic how so many things could stem from one simple desire.

And Jinyoung was right. One day, Mark would die because his body was mortal, and Jaebum would be alone once again. And it would be over in a second, because Jaebum existed longer than any of them could imagine.

“I love you,” Mark had sobbed into his shirt. “I love you so much.”

And all for purpose.

 

 

The next morning, Mark was about to fall asleep at the kitchen bench. Jinyoung was frying eggs and by the looks of it, was cooking rice as well. Mark yawned again, trying to figure out what sort of leftovers to heat for breakfast. Truthfully, he was more of a cereal-for-breakfast person, but if he remembered anything about his best friend, it was that Jackson loved a hearty meal.

They were both in the kitchen when Jackson walked out, having just woken up. Jaebum was on the couch, reclining comfortably when he saw the boy approach him. He raised an eyebrow.

“Hey Jaebum,” the two roommates heard. “I heard you grant wishes, so if I wanted all the merman and mermaids to turn back into humans…”

Jinyoung and Mark exchanged a look, before both were dashing out of the kitchen, effectively cutting Jackson off before he could continue. Jinyoung grabbed Jackson’s shoulder, pulling him away from the witch.

“ _Absolutely_ _not_!” Jinyoung hissed. Mark had run over to the witch, placing his hand over Jaebum’s mouth.

“You are not allowed to answer,” he warned. The witch looked amused. He smiled, watching as Jinyoung tried to restrain his urge to hit the other boy.

“Did you learn _nothing_ from what I told you?” Jinyoung shrieked. Jackson held his hands up in defence.

“It’s not that!” He cried. “I just feel bad, y’know? You told me about all those people who turned into Mer people who don’t remember who they are, and it just makes me so sad. Like, why can’t they remember as well?”

“This is not your battle,” Mark snarled. He was sitting on the lap of the witch, one hand still on his mouth as he turned to face Jackson. “You are not wishing for anything.”

“You and Jaebum aren’t allowed in a room together,” Jinyoung agreed.

Mark looked like he was about to pull his hair out.

“I can’t deal with this.”

“Just help me in the kitchen,” Jinyoung said, pushing Jackson towards the fridge. “Don’t go near the couch ohmygod every time you’re near him something goes wrong.”

The two disappeared with a loud rattle and what sounded like Jinyoung telling the other boy off. Mark moved his attention from the kitchen to the witch in front of him, eyes softening, if only a little.

“You’re banned from talking to Jackson,” Mark said.

Jaebum smiled innocently.

“No promises,” he said. Mark screamed.

The witch laughed. Mark pouted, and to his surprise, he felt warm lips touch his.

“Sorry,” he purred, sounding not very sorry at all. Mark didn’t seem to mind.  Jaebum pushed Mark down onto the couch, climbing on top of him to kiss him deeper, hands moving down to his waist to dip into his jeans.

Mark moaned, and the witch hummed, pleased.

“Good boy,” he smiled.

Before they could do any more, they heard the fumbling of Jackson and Jinyoung. Mark flushed.

“Let me at least hear the price,” Jackson reasoned.

“No! Of course not.”

“Why? Why not?”

“Did we not just go through this? Did we not just explain the consequences of wishes? Were you not focusing for the last twelve hours?”

“I know, but c’mon, this could really change things…”

“That’s what Mark thought last time, was it not?”

“This is different.”

“You honestly think that you’re the first person to think that their wish is ‘different’.”

The two continued bickering and Mark sighed.

“Don’t move,” Mark warned.

Jaebum laughed. He got off the boy, watching in amusement as Mark went off to settle the two boys down. It didn’t appear to work, he thought mildly, Mark’s entrance only adding to the noise. They were louder than clanging pots, and Jaebum found humanity so fascinating. The witch smiled when Mark walked back, defeated.

“Banned,” he repeated, “You’re banned from talking to Jackson.”

Jaebum smirked.

“That will be hard to implement.” He pulled Mark down to sit on his lap, his knees on either side of the witch’s hips. “What do you plan to do to keep me away from him?”

It sounded like a dare. Mark shifted, and perhaps it wasn’t a good idea, but he moved closer to kiss the witch.

“I’ll keep you occupied,” Mark smiled.

The witch purred.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> um the epitome of bad planning is here because this chapter is like 2 1/2 times longer than the first chapter and took a whole day to edit like?? pls ignore any sort of funky wording or awkward phrasing, my brain is goNE AHAHAHA 
> 
> also lowkey may have written this whole story + the storm for that one pun. the storm might steal your thunder. thE STORM MIGHT STEAL YOUR THUNDER this is where i'm at AHAHAHA 
> 
> also thank you for everyone for reading the first chapter!! and the comments and kudos even though it made no sense!! AHAHAHA i hope everything was cleared here; with the amount of pages i wrote i hope so omg
> 
> also i very much like chemistry and blood-thirsty crazy creatures and i'm lowkey a sucker for ""happy"" endings so apologies AHAHAHA my brain is a little dead but fun fact lamia in latin means which if i remember latin correctly;  
> also the alternate summary of this is "mark should've minded his own damn business" which sounds about right. 
> 
> If you got to the end, thank you so much for reading!! Your comments and kudos make me very warmed, and I'm so sorry i can't plan anything thank you very much!!


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